


Guardian of the Wilds

by Mimiwritesfic



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Bi Haircut Zelda, Bisexual Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Friendship, Gen, Genderfluid Link (Legend of Zelda), Hijinks & Shenanigans, Link (Legend of Zelda) Uses Sign Language, No Calamity, Not Canon Compliant, Not quite a road trip but still, Not really mentioned but she IS and that’s important, Political Intrigue, Selectively Mute Link (Legend of Zelda), Spirit/Diety AU, Tags have been edited to be more accurate bc i pantsed literally this entire thing, Temporary Character Death, asl-based for anyone curious, because I said so, but since when is my writing respectful of canon, do i love writing him as a gremlin too much?, fight me he IS, he does ‘talk’, just not aloud ever, link wasn’t quite raised by satori but they are Bros, see if yall can guess what changed, set during when the calamity would have happened tho!, wherin Link gets to be the mischievous spirit of the wilds he is at heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:28:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 107,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23702344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimiwritesfic/pseuds/Mimiwritesfic
Summary: “I merely did what I thought was right,” said the spirit, embarrassed.Then your instincts are solid and should be relied upon, said Satori, tilting his head. I do not recall your presence in Hyrule, young one. What are you the guardian of?“I guard the wilds, and those who travel through them,” said the spirit. “I am of the wandering warriors, of the explorers, and the defenders of the mortal races.”—Or, in an era of peace in Hyrule, Link is among the ranks of Hyrule’s guardian spirits—but something is wrong with them. There’s an evil spreading across the land, choking out its natural magic, and the free-traveling Spirit of the Wilds may be the only of his brethren able to fight back. Of course, he’ll need backup... enter Zelda, Princess of Hyrule, mad scientist, and intent on finding out precisely what had caused the Goddess to go silent. Will they and their allies be enough to save Hyrule’s spirits, or will the mysterious darkness win?
Relationships: Link & Zelda, Urbosa/Zelda's Mother (Legend of Zelda)
Comments: 139
Kudos: 377





	1. Chapter 1

Deep in the forest, a legend was said to sleep. Born of the wilds, of the unexplored forest, of the spirit of true adventurers, said the travelers who sat around their fires on dark nights. The spirit of the wilds and of warriors was rarely, if ever, seen by mortal eyes—though every culture in Hyrule had their own accounts of encounters with him.

The Rito said he would guide aerial hunters that were known to respect nature and take only what was needed, that he could sometimes be found during group shield-surfing competitions, disguised among the competitors.

The Gerudo said the spirit was between vai and voe, that he or she would appear among them on festival days, that anyone who dared test their strength against the Molduga might find the beast distracted by vibrations from invisible feet elsewhere. 

The Zora said he rewarded the most daring divers with the best fish, that he watched over warriors who fought to defend their home rather than for glory, that those who dove from Shatterback Point could sometimes find themselves joined by him in the water for a split second. 

The Gorons said they were a lover of strong bonds, familial or otherwise, forged in flame, that any brother who stood strong for others and not himself would gain the spirit’s blessing, that anyone who fought the Igneo Talus might find their weapons guided by an unseen hand.

However, it was Hylians who felt the spirit’s presence most often—specifically, Hylians who frequented stables. Those who knew horses could tell when the spirit was near, because the horses would react accordingly, turning their heads and nickering to some invisible presence. Some travelers left offerings at stables, asking for safe passage or luck in their next treasure hunt. Others tried to find the actual spirit and inevitably ended up misled in the forest for their folly.

“No one  _ finds _ the spirit, fools,” said the storytellers, shaking their heads sagely. “The spirit finds you.”

But one fateful day, during a period of peace in Hyrule’s history, the spirit felt something shift in the flow of power around Hyrule. He was getting lethargic, and to his horror, so were the other guardian spirits of the land. But what to do? The golden goddesses were not responding, and neither was Hylia-

Until something  _ tugged _ on the spirit, yanking him from the haze and into physical form. The “something” receded as soon as he realized what was going on, and the spirit was left in a new body with unfamiliar clothing and gear. He looked around the Great Plateau, wondering what had brought him forth and what he was meant to do. 

Eventually, the spirit decided to go visit the other guardians, figuring that  _ they _ might know. He found the edge of the Plateau and used a paraglider conveniently placed in his pack to soar away, aiming for the nearest place he sensed horses. 

_ Wait. I don’t have a name.  _

__ But what to call himself? Something simple, that many Hylians would regard as common. Something that hinted at his hidden power, maybe—just to mess with people. 

_ Link, _ he decided, landing on the road just outside the Great Plateau and falling into step towards the distant stable.  _ Link, like the heroes of legend. Every household in Hyrule has at least  _ considered _ naming their child Link. No one will look at me oddly for it.  _

__ So it was that “Link” made himself known to the world and set out to investigate the issue. 

—

“Link, eh? Original name, kid,” said the stable owner, whose name was Idan. “What can I do for you today?”

_ “I want to catch a horse,”  _ said Link, keeping his signs slow enough for Idan to follow in case he didn’t understand.

“There’s plenty o’ the docile ones out in the hills yonder, right behind the stable,” said Idan, gesturing in the vague direction. “I warn you, try not to go for the wilder ones. Y’ can spot them easy—they’re the ones breaking off from the group.”

__ _ “I’m good with horses.” _

__ “Th’ warning’s as much for them as for you,” said Idan, waving a finger at Link reprovingly. “A cocky rider can get their mount hurt easily, and I wouldn’t blame the horses for lashin’ out at someone like that.”

That comment sealed Link’s approval of the stable and he moved on, thanking Idan for the advice with a wave. Horses roamed the well-kept and well-traveled hills behind the stable seemingly without pattern, but as he got near, several of them turned to get a good look at him. The bolder ones trotted closer. Horses  _ always _ knew. 

_ I’d like a companion,  _ he broadcasted, watching the horses circle curiously around him.  _ Which one of you wants to come? It may be dangerous.  _

__ Gradually, most of the herd got their fill of investigating his presence and wandered off, dwindling their numbers until only one remained—a coppery mare with a pale mane and nose, one who stared him right in the eye with a mischievous manner.

_ You volunteer, then?  _ Link moved around and hopped astride the mare, but before he was settled, she moved. The mare snorted and bucked, chucking him right into the grass on his behind. She nickered at the disgraced spirit, almost laughing at his predicament. A test. Link grinned and got to his feet to try again, determined to win the mare’s trust. 

“Th-that one?” sputtered Idan when Link trotted back with the mare, hair full of sticks and a wide grin plastered across his face. “She’s been terrorizing people who try to tame her for weeks! Y’ haven’t even been gone an hour!”

_ “Her name is Epona,” _ said Link, his smile never fading. He and Epona left that day with a map and a half-formed plan, though not before leaving a blessing on the stable. As they trotted back through the hilly fields and north towards the Hebra mountains, Link went over himself curiously. He’d taken physical form a couple times, but never so solid and unmistakably  _ mortal _ as this—short and wiry with tangled blond hair, a Hylian with no apparent magic or notable strength. 

He could still hear the wilds, though—teeming with life, hostile and friendly alike. Monsters lurked, as did whatever danger made the other spirits hide. 

_ Must get a weapon from somewhere.  _ As a protector of the wilds and all who passed through them, warriors included,, he had proficiency in most weapons no matter what form he took. Of course, proficiency in weaponry didn’t matter much where there were no weapons around. 

Link’s musing was interrupted by the passing of a young man on a spirited horse who challenged him to a race. Hardly one to refuse such a challenge, Link urged Epona into a gallop down the road, sprinting into a new day.

_ You’ll like Satori, _ he told Epona, after the race was won and they were properly on their way.  _ He’s a bit stuffy, but he always treats horses kindly.  _

When Link was a young spirit, growing a small following and protecting very little territory compared to his current domain, Satori had been a guiding light. He still remembered the first day they met—the first day Link ever spoke directly with a fellow guardian spirit of Hyrule.

—

_ Two travelers made their way through the forest, clutching wooden bows and casting about eagerly for their next targets. The spirit watched, curious about their presence, eavesdropping without guilt on their conversation. _

_ “How many d’you think we can bag today? Ten?” The first traveler, a Hylian man with brown hair, strung his bow as he spoke and experimentally aimed for a nearby tree. His companion, a Hylian woman with light hair older than him, laughed aloud.  _

_ “Ten? You’re thinking too small,” she ribbed. “Double or nothing!” _

_ The spirit settled in the top branches of an oak tree, wondering what they were “bagging”. He had no issues with hunters who wished only to feed themselves and others. Even the boisterous ones were often only happy about the end of a scant winter, so they passed his inspection—but these two were out in midsummer, not to mention hunting on a mountain with little natural fauna anyway.  _

_ “You know what? I have a good feeling about today. We’re gonna be rich,” said the man, and the spirit quite suddenly understood their mission. They hunted for sport, not necessity… meaning he was free to interfere with their endeavors to teach them a lesson.  _

_ But before the spirit could come up with a precise plan, both Hylians stiffened and went still, looking into the bushes for an unseen animal of some kind. The spirit switched trees to get a better look as the Hylians fell into hunting stances. _

_ The bush shook. _

_ Something wriggled.  _

_ Then a soft blue glow enveloped the ground near the bush, emanating from a housecat-sized creature with four eyes, a flattened face, and twin fluffy golden antennae. The little blue animal—similar to a rabbit, if anything—hopped along contentedly, unaware of the Hylians hunting it. _

_ “Aim carefully,” murmured the woman, letting the man raise his bow. _

_ The spirit was having precisely none of that, however, and reached out with his powers. “I curse you,” he said, leveling a gaze of quiet fury at both Hylians. “May your weapons fail you and the wilds reject you.” _

_ “OW!” roared the man as the bowstring slapped him in the face, scaring away the blue bunny.  _

_ “What was that?” demanded the woman. _

_ “I don’t know! That thing should have been weeks away from breaking!” _

_ “Ugh, whatever. I’ll shoot,” said the woman, brandishing her own bow. “Let’s just go.” _

_ But as she turned to walk away, an unseen tree root caught her foot and she went sprawling. The spirit held back giggles at the resulting barrage of swearing.  _

_ The two Hylians were either stupid or ridiculously determined, because no matter what the spirit threw at them, they remained on the mountain trying to shoot the little blue bunnies. He made the woman’s bow snap as well, but she only pulled out a crossbow. He made the man trip into a lake, but that did not deter him. He called upon Zapshrooms to grow in their path and bees to hound them across the mountain, but none of these tactics did more than drive the Hylians crazy.  _

_ How to get them off the mountain and away from the bunnies? _

_ The spirit was musing, watching the man fruitlessly try to trap a new bunny, when a large animal wandered nearby and gave him an idea. He smirked, disappearing from his perch only to reappear in front of his target as a ghostly approximation of a Hylian. _

_ “Peace,” he told the startled bear. “How would you like to have some fun?” _

_ Not ten minutes later, the two Hylians ran screaming from the mountain, pursued by an annoyed mama bear and a gleeful spirit. The spirit settled next to the bear after the Hylians left, patting her head gently with a see-through hand.  _

_ “Thank you,” he said. The bear snorted and walked away, though not without an amicable nod.  _

_ The spirit was just about ready to move on (and perhaps lay curses on a few more unfortunate hunters) when something made itself known on the edge of his senses. He turned to face the mountaintop, astonished to see an ethereal blue glow adorning the rocky peak.  _

_ “Pip-pip? Pip?” _

_ The spirit looked down to see one of the bunnies from before staring up at him, its antennae twitching curiously.  _

_ “Pip-pip!” it said, hopping towards the glowing peak. After a moment, the bunny turned, waiting for him to follow—so, curious, the spirit did just that. Through the forest, up the slope, and between three natural rock pillars, until the pink blossoms of a cherry tree became visible. The spirit stopped in the “doorway” of the mountain, staring at all the bunnies hopping around the little pond sheltered by the cherry tree. And in the pond…  _

_ Greetings, young one, said a horselike creature with the same face and antennae as the bunnies. It—he—stood in the center of the pond, occasionally flipping his impressive white mane.  _

_ “Greetings,” said the spirit hesitantly, stepping forward and stopping just short of the pond. “Who are you?” _

_ I am Satori, Lord of the Mountain and protector of these spirits. They are called Blupees, young one. Thank you for defending them. _

_ “I merely did what I thought was right,” said the spirit, embarrassed.  _

_ Then your instincts are solid and should be relied upon, said Satori, tilting his head. I do not recall your presence in Hyrule, young one. What are you the guardian of? _

_ “I guard the wilds, and those who travel through them,” said the spirit. “I am of the wandering warriors, of the explorers, and the defenders of the mortal races.” _

_ Ah, that is why you are young, said Satori. The mortal races are young as well. You will grow in power beside them, of that I am sure.  _

_ “Are there… others? Guardian spirits?” _

_ Of course. Come, sit—it seems you have had no guidance in this world, and that needs a remedy. Have you a name? _

_ “No name, not really,” said the spirit, accepting his seat on an overturned log before Satori. “They have not given me one.” _

_ And your physical form is also incomplete… have no fear, that will change, said Satori. _

_ “You said there are others like us?” _

_ There are. I rarely go beyond my domain these days, but I can tell you of them. _

_ “Please, do.” _

—

Satori Mountain, home to the guardian of Blupees and most other things that glowed, loomed ominously against the twilit sky as Link approached. He left Epona at its base with a small pile of apples and began the climb, stretching his senses to try and find Satori. 

There was nothing—not even the usual empty feeling when his old friend wasn’t active, just a pained sort of “gone” feeling. Link tried not to panic and pushed forward, climbing all the way up the summit to the cherry tree Satori loved so much, only to find the area deserted. Despite its blessing from the Lord of the Mountain, despite the warm summer day, the cherry tree stood barren of leaves and blossoms. 

_ No. Satori, are you here? Satori!  _ Link ran all over the mountain, casting about for any sign of his friend to no avail. There was nothing living in the area—the grass was yellow, the trees mere skeletons, and no birdsong or insect calls could be heard. The wilds reached out to his presence screaming in pain, begging for help. 

Satori still did not appear. What could have made him abandon his territory? What could be powerful enough to chase away the Lord of the Mountain?

Or even, Goddess forbid… destroy him.

Link shook himself out of the reverie, refusing to believe his oldest friend could be gone. Satori was not on the same power level as the dragons, or even the fairies, but he was also hard to get at in the first place—no entity could hold him in one place long enough to hurt him, surely. 

But the sight of the barren cherry tree was enough to make that resolve falter. Struck by sudden determination, Link strode forward and placed both hands on the wizened trunk, concentrating on the energy that flowed through every living thing.

He expected to revitalize the tree, to find slumbering power easily coaxed back to life. 

He did not expect the battle. 

With a shriek, the energy within the tree lashed out—it was not the energy of the wilds, it was the energy of secrecy and solitude, it was—

_ SATORI, STOP! _

Suddenly, the energy assaulting Link’s mind halted and drew back, leaving him to fall to one knee. He watched with relief as the cherry tree glowed with blue light and Satori emerged from its glow, cantering out into the physical realm with a shake of his mane.

_ Young one, you should NOT be here,  _ he said, rearing angrily.  _ You should be in hiding, not parading around as a mortal Hylian! _

_ I did not take mortal form purposefully,  _ said Link weakly, startled by Satori’s intensity. 

That halted the rearing and yelling, if only for the moment.  _ You were placed in this form by someone else? _

Link explained briefly how he’d woken up, shoved from the growing lethargy of his domain and into Hylian form for some unknown reason. Satori listened intently, his expressionless golden eyes somehow conveying concern.

_ That is not good,  _ he said eventually, pacing about the pond.  _ You do not know why the rest of us went dark? _

_ No, and I was worried,  _ said Link, reaching out with one hand before reconsidering. Satori, however, understood his intent and stepped closer, allowing Link to run a hand through his mane.

_ There is a threat in this land,  _ said Satori.  _ It runs the risk of destroying the domains of each guardian spirit in Hyrule, but only if it can catch us. I have hidden the Blupees away and pretended to abandon my home for this reason, Young One, and I would suggest you do the same if you can. _

_ I can’t just  _ hide _ the wilds, Satori.  _

_ Then hide yourself. In a mortal body, our enemies might not be able to track you… perhaps your mysterious entity is a benefactor in that way.  _ Satori made the mental equivalent of a sigh.  _ The dragons have already fallen prey to this danger, Young One. The Great Fairies are rapidly losing power, the Horse God has stopped responding, and the Deku Tree… they cannot retreat into the ether as I can, or travel as you do. _

_ We can’t just sit here and wait-! _

_ I KNOW!  _ Satori reared up once more, nearly knocking Link over with his front hooves. He stopped, ashamed, when Link retreated from him.  _ I know, Young One, but what more can we do but protect what is ours and wait it out? _

_ Exactly! _

_ Hmm? _

_ Protect what is ours,  _ said Link. He gestured broadly to the lands visible from Satori Mountain.  _ I guard the wilds and all within them. They are threatened by this enemy, right? As you say, I can travel. I can fight. _

_ Young One… _

_ I know you care for me,  _ said Link,  _ but I can’t just leave this. I’m the only spirit with true free rein. That must be why I was taken from spirit form and put here. _

Satori stared at him for a long time, the breeze pushing his mane back and forth while the rest of him remained still. Finally, he spoke.  _ I can see you will not be deterred, Young One. Very well. I shall tell you what I can of our enemy, but I will have to hide very soon, so sit and listen intently.  _

Link did as he was told, completely focused on Satori.

_ Not long ago, darkness began to take root in Hyrule. It began with the royal family, I believe, and soon our fellow spirits began crying out in pain. Tera, the eldest of the Great Fairies, managed to send out one message: that our enemies wield shadow magic, they are many in number, and they know where we are. Her warning was too late for the dragons—they have been corrupted. That is all I know, Young One. You will have to ask the others for more information. Beyond that… _

Satori stepped forward and, in a rare show of affection, nuzzled the side of Link’s face.  _ All I can say is that you have my blessing, Young One. Go—and be careful. _

_ Thank you, Satori. I will.  _ Before Satori could retreat into his tree, however, Link realized he had one more thing to say:  _ I have a name now.  _

_ Oh? Have they given you one? _

_ No, I chose it for myself. Link. _

_ Like the Hylian heroes of legend,  _ said Satori, nodding sagely.  _ A good name to use for your mission. You will always be “Young One” to me, however.  _

With that, Satori faded from the physical realm, leaving his mountain abandoned. The wilds still called to Link through the silence.

He needed to leave, to find the other spirits and save them as fast as possible—but he still knew next to nothing about the threat. Tera was far away, farther than was prudent to go to first, but her sisters… one of them should be close, if Link remembered Satori’s lessons (and his own travels) correctly. So, bidding one last goodbye to the mountain, Link left to collect Epona and travel towards the distant Tabantha region, determined to save the guardians of Hyrule from a nasty fate.


	2. Chapter 2

Epona really was a  _ fantastic _ horse. She seemed to intuitively know the way, even when Link zoned out while trying to monitor the wilds for danger or to recall what he knew about the other spirits—which wasn’t really much, unfortunately. Satori and Malanya were the only ones he spoke to on a semi-regular basis. Link spent more time alone than not, which was why Satori had to teach him about the others so long ago instead of Link meeting them himself. He simply hadn’t crossed paths with them. 

What had he first said about the Great Fairies? Something that had made Link laugh… ah, of course.

—

_ There is one thing you need to know about interacting with Great Fairies, said Satori.  _

_ “And that is?” _

_ They are… unnecessarily grabby. Keep a distance of at least ten feet should you ever gain a physical form that happens to be attractive.  _

_ The spirit snorted, but Satori did not seem to be joking. “Is that all?” _

_ No, of course not. Like all of us spirits, the Great Fairies are complicated beings… they thrive off of the magic contained within rupees, and guard smaller fairies within their springs. Theirs is the energy of healing and growth. _

_ “When was the last time you saw one in person?” _

_ Oh… longer than even a spirit such as I cares to recall, Young One. I rarely leave my domain—but the Great Fairies cannot leave theirs at all. They can communicate with us, however. Kaysa in particular always has gossip ready, if you are the type to listen to it.  _

—

Link liked the Great Fairies well enough, but having no need for their upgrading services, he always heeded Satori’s warning and spoke to the fairies from a distance while in visible form. Good thing, too—he’d seen more than one traveler get yanked under the waters of the springs by grabby hands while asking for magic. 

_ They’re not fans of horses, so you’ll have to wait out of sight,  _ he told Epona, who whuffed and shot him a judging look. She knew that Link was just leery to put his horse anywhere near an afflicted spirit, but they both pretended otherwise. 

_ I can handle myself,  _ she seemed to say in the shake of her mane and the clacking of her hooves on the road. 

The road from Satori Mountain to Kaysa’s spring was well-traveled normally, usually by merchants and other such wandering traders. Link and Epona passed many of those on the way, but a certain category of travelers was severely depleted: those bearing offerings for Kaysa. 

Satori had said the Great Fairies were rapidly losing power—was that why? They thrived on the magic within rupees, after all, and if fewer people made the pilgrimage to find them… 

Link stopped at a stable just before Tanagar Canyon to sleep for the night and ask around, but he was only met with incredulous looks and suspicion when Kaysa was brought up. 

“The Great Fairy ain’t letting  _ anyone _ close, kid,” said one of the stablehands, a woman with bright red hair and olive skin (too short to be Gerudo, but perhaps there was one in her ancestry). “You’ll have to take an offering up some other time.”

_ “Why not? What’s stopping people?” _

The stablehand stared at him, glanced at another stablehand incredulously, and said, “You mean you haven’t heard of the thorns?”

The way she said “thorns” made them sound actively malevolent, like a monster instead of a plant’s natural defense (Link might have been biased, as no thorn would ever prick him, but still). 

_ “No?” _

The stablehand looked to her companion again with an expression that said  _ “can you believe this guy?” _ Aloud, she said, “They popped up a couple weeks ago, all over Hyrule, I’m told. Giant purple things as tall as trees and twice as dense as a Faron jungle, blocking access to every Great Fairy in the land.”

Two weeks was a surprise to Link. Time passed oddly while he wasn’t paying attention—once a hundred years had passed for the mortals while he’d taken an idle nap atop Mount Hylia—but he’d thought for sure the darkness had been around longer than that… 

“My cousin went up to Great Fairy Kaysa’s spring a few days ago,” supplied the other stablehand, a young man with pale hair and paler skin. “He came back covered in contact burns from those things. Didn’t even see the Fairy. Don’t try going up there if you value your skin, kid.”

Link suppressed the petty urge to say he was over ten thousand years old by Hylian count, definitely  _ not _ a kid, and said,  _ “Thanks anyway.” _

“Hey, if you still want to see something cool, try Rito Village instead,” supplied the first stablehand as Link turned to leave. “I hear they’ve got an up-and-coming archery champion up there. Youngest ever. Should be interesting, yeah?”

Link nodded politely and left the horse stalls, disheartened, in search of a campfire he could sleep beside. He had some money—courtesy of a couple gemstones left in his bag by his mysterious benefactor—but he preferred sleeping under the stars to sleeping in beds. As he lay in the dirt using his light coat for a pillow, he turned the stablehands’ words over in his head.

_ New archery champion? That’s not news, not for the Rito. They’ve got a new one every two weeks.  _ Granted, Link hadn’t actually been up that way recently even before the darkness showed itself. He could easily have missed that. More importantly, the thorns. Kaysa couldn’t have put them up herself—Great Fairies had no harmful magic—so they had to be the work of the new enemies. But to keep people out, or to keep Kaysa in?

Link puzzled over it a moment longer before smacking himself in the face. Of course, it was  _ both.  _ No people meant no offerings, which meant no power for Kaysa, which meant she would be unable to defend her domain for much longer. It was a  _ siege.  _

Unable to do more than worry uselessly for the time being, Link rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, hoping his sleep would be dreamless. 

—

The next morning saw Link and Epona leaving in the early dawn light, when their breath still came out in wisps of steam against the chill air and the sun barely cast its light over the horizon. Kaysa’s spring was not far along the road, just past a valley beyond Tanagar Canyon, so Link left Epona at the bottom of the hill with a stash of apples (fast becoming a tradition) and continued on his own, apprehensive and wishing he had a decent weapon. Really,  _ any _ weapon. 

_ You are not alone, _ the wilds always said, but there was precious little organic life in the rocky tundra. Rocks, while technically part of “the wilds”, weren’t conducive to Link’s abilities like plants or animals were. Stubborn things. He could hear almost nothing of the wilds surrounded by rocks. 

Link stopped suddenly in the middle of his hike, listening intently. As a matter of fact, he couldn’t hear  _ anything _ . The wilds got quieter and quieter the closer he got to Kaysa’s spring, which was… foreboding, to say the least. Link found a stick in a scraggly patch of bushes nearby for a makeshift weapon and pressed forward, determined to make it to the spring. Surely the thorns wouldn’t be able to harm him-

But when he finally climbed over the last rock and made it to where Kaysa’s spring should have been, such determination died in his chest. The thorns were so much  _ worse _ than how the stablehands had described them—dark as night and larger than any tree he’d ever seen, they jutted into the sky like rusty spears, choking out the little alcove where Kaysa’s spring sat. Link couldn’t even sense the presence of a Great Fairy through the miasma of  _ wrong _ that echoed through his head the closer he got. 

_ Kaysa? It’s the spirit of the wilds, please answer if you can! _

No response. Either the thorns blocked his words, or Kaysa was further gone than he thought. Link stepped right up to them, reaching out a hand-

_ Hiss. _

Link yanked his hand away with a grunt, examining the pink burn now discoloring his palm. It faded slightly—only slightly—and he instantly knew that this mortal body was more fallible than his spirit form. He’d need food, or a potion, to heal the burn.

“Hey!”

Link stiffened and whirled around, conscious of the dark substance at his back as he brandished the stick with his good hand. Someone was clambering over the pale rocks towards his location, huffing and puffing as they went. 

_ Watch out,  _ whispered the wilds, barely audible over the white noise of the thorns. Link could hardly understand why they warned him about the seemingly-innocent Hylian traveler approaching him, but the wilds were never wrong. He lowered the stick anyway—better to seem unassuming than to let a potential threat know he was suspicious. 

“Hey! I—oof. Just a sec,” said the traveler, bending over to catch his breath as he reached Link. He recovered a moment later, straightening to look Link in the eye tiredly. “Sorry. Whew, some hike, huh? I’m Ani!”

Link squinted at Ani and said nothing. Friendliness when approaching strangers wasn’t unusual, but that level of toothy grinning was unnerving. It didn’t help that he was a full head taller than Link and stood uncomfortably close. 

“If you’re trying to get to the spring, don’t bother,” said Ani apologetically, indicating the thorns with one gloved hand. “The Great Fairy doesn’t seem to want visitors. Shame, really. Terrible. Oh, well!”

_ “I need to get through,” _ insisted Link. When Ani only frowned at his signs, he sighed and pointed first to himself, then the thorns, repeatedly. He disliked speaking aloud—it disturbed the wilds. 

“Oh. Well, maybe you can go through another time, yeah?” Ani scratched his blond head, shrugging. “Anyways—are you deaf? Is that why you use HSL?”

Link shook his head, trying to find a way out of the conversation. 

“Oh. Then, uh, why-“

Link cut him off with a flat glance of displeasure and turned towards the cliff face, deciding to simply climb away from the uncomfortable conversation. He wasn’t sure if he  _ could _ curse somebody in this state, but his last ounce of self-control told him not to try.

“Hey, you’re gonna get hurt if you keep trying to get in, buddy!”

_ Don’t try to curse him,  _ Link told himself, rapidly finding handholds on the rough rock. It was hard with one bad hand, but he made do.  _ Don’t do it… Satori would be disappointed…  _

“What makes you so desperate to get in? Buddy, this won’t work!”

_ If he calls me “buddy” one more time, I’m cursing him, Satori or no Satori.  _

Ani didn’t seem to want to give up, going so far as to follow Link up the cliff. The climb hadn’t even helped—there were extra thorns that twisted over where Kaysa should have been, forming a warped ceiling that entirely encased the spring. Link had no way through, not without potentially destroying his mortal form (considering that he didn’t quite know how to make a new one, this was an issue). 

“You… climb… fast,” managed Ani, hoisting himself over the edge a little too fast for someone extensible suffering from exhaustion. 

The wilds said nothing, but the silence in and of itself was a warning. 

“Really, how come you want to get in so bad? No upgrade’s worth risking death, if you ask me,” continued Ani, clearly hoping Link would speak. 

Instead, Link chose to test the warning of the wilds. 

_ “Spirit,” _ he signed slowly, pointing to the hidden spring. 

“Fairy?” guessed Ani after several minutes of completely inaccurate assumptions. 

Link decided that was good enough and continued,  _ “Danger.” _

It took about three more minutes of Ani failing miserably to learn sign language on the spot for him to get it. “Oh! The fairy’s in danger, you mean? You’re trying to help?”

Link nodded curtly. 

“Oh!” Ani’s former relentless smile dimmed. “Oh. I see. You think you can make a difference.”

Warning bells went off in Link’s mind then and he tensed with one hand on the stick, ready to fight—

But he could do little more than take the boot that hit his chest and avoid falling onto the thorns. Link rolled to one side and swiped at his attacker with the stick, only for Ani to completely disappear in a puff of smoke—and reappear right behind Link, lashing out with something sharp that carved a line right through the skin over his hip. 

_ Dark magic—sword—maybe something else— _

Link landed a punch with his fist, but suffered a glancing hit to the jaw not two seconds later. He just couldn’t track his opponent’s movements, not without stopping to concentrate, and stopping during a one-sided fight like that would get him killed.

_ I can’t beat him like this.  _

So Link did the first thing that came to mind and tackled Ani off the cliff. In retrospect, bad plan—he missed the tree that would have been a good handle to swing off of and rolled down the rest of the slope—but he  _ did _ survive. 

Unfortunately, so had Ani. 

He seemed to have dropped his weapon somewhere, luckily, but Link was the one rapidly losing blood. Something about the wound was  _ wrong _ in the same way the thorns had been—poison, or dark magic? Both combatants analyzed each other for a long moment, each trying to size up their advantages. Then, as one, they spotted the fallen sword and dove for it. 

But suddenly, before either of them could reach the sword or even resume fighting, a furious whinny cut through the chill air. Hoofbeats thundered across stone as several hundred pounds of protective horse came dashing over from the road—aiming straight for Ani. Link dove out of the way in time. 

His attacker didn’t. 

All Link saw was another burst of smoke before Epona cantered back around and he swung into the saddle. Looking back, there was no trace of their fight besides his blood staining the ground and a few torn bits of cloth.

_ Good horse. Excellent horse. When all this is over, I will personally pick every apple in Hyrule for you,  _ Link managed, dizzily clinging to Epona’s reins. She snorted and continued at a pace slightly slower than a full gallop—though only just. The pillar of Rito Village was visible in the distance as she rejoined the road, growing larger every moment. 

A sharp whinny jolted Link out of his stupor.  _ Right! Right. Can’t sleep. _

But no amount of jostling or panicked whinnying stopped the seep of blood from his side or the throbbing of his skull, and Link passed out right there on Epona’s back not long after.

—

“-monster attack, probably. Miracle he’s alive…”

“Who can lose that much blood and live? One potion and his concussion’s gone?”

“That’s some horse, to bring him all the way here! Think he’s blessed?”

“You’re daft if you think the spirit of the wilds is still around…”

Different voices drifted around Link’s head as he lay there trying to wake up. There was a soft surface beneath him and a scratchy blanket over him, and if he listened beyond the voices, horses could be heard nickering through the walls of wherever he was.

_ Stable. I’m safe. _

“Hey, he’s awake!”

At first, Link only registered a green blob hovering above him before the blob resolved itself into a female Rito with feathers the color of moss, looking down at him concernedly.

“I’m a healer, don’t worry,” she said quickly, before Link could do anything other than squint in a confused way. “My name is Kosa. You’ve been out for about a day—can you speak?”

Link sat up with some difficulty and shook his head, signing,  _ “Can you understand this? I can hear.” _

“Oh, of course. I can’t return the favor, not with these”—she waved her wings—“but I understand. Now, tell me how you’re feeling.”

“If he says anythin’ that ain’t ‘excruciating pain’ I’ll eat my hat,” said a new voice, belonging to a grizzled Hylian man who stood by the entrance to the stable. He wore the uniform of most stable workers, but displayed none of the typical hospitality. “Kid showed up covered in blood and passed out on a horse.  _ Nobody _ bounces back from that.”

Link tapped Kosa’s shoulder to get her attention and said,  _ “Sore, but okay.”  _

The statement earned him a barking laugh from a nearby Hylian traveler, who elbowed the stablehand from before triumphantly. “I hope your hat tastes better than it looks, Rassak!”

Rassak grumbled and left the area. 

“Sorry about him. He gets grouchy before breakfast, every local knows that,” said Kosa, rolling her eyes. “Now, can you move your arms properly?”

It took some time before she was satisfied that Link wasn’t about to keel over, especially considering his unnaturally quick recovery, but he was eventually allowed to get up and leave the stable with only minimal suspicion. Epona, he was told, had outright  _ fought _ to avoid people she didn’t like tending to her rider—and to avoid being herded into the actual stalls, preferring to stand guard outside the stable. 

_ Good horse, _ Link told her, allowing his friend to worriedly sniff his clothes in search of further injury. She whuffed and nipped one of his ears reprovingly, as if saying “You’d be lost without me.”

“That’s some horse, kid. Where are you headed with her?”

Link turned to find the grouchy Rassak leaned up against the stable wall, regarding him curiously and munching on an apple. He thought about the question—where  _ would _ he go next? What took priority, chasing down the mysterious new enemies or finding answers from the other spirits? 

_ “I need weapons,” _ he signed eventually.

Rassak didn’t seem surprised. “Well, there’s a small armory halfway up Rito Pillar if you don’t mind buying from them. It’ll drain your wallet, but you can’t beat Rito bows.”

_ “Thank you.” _

“You’re welcome, stranger.”

Link left Epona in the hands of the stable and continued on to the heart of Rito territory—the giant, jutting spire in the middle of Lake Totori which housed all the most important members of the Rito (which is to say, the most skilled individuals in crafting and battle and the resident Elder). The rest of the city sprawled across the edges of Lake Totori, but Link would be unable to visit the outskirts, so he chose not to think about the missed opportunity as he crossed the swaying rope bridges to the center. 

Two sparrows flew overhead and alighted on the bridge railing, eyeing Link curiously. A Hightail Lizard stopped momentarily as he passed over one of the smaller rock pillars, skittering closer before noticing the other travelers that crossed with Link and running away. Even the frogs in each little pond stopped their activities to hop up and stare. Normally, such things were normal—but a couple of the other travelers were noticing the odd behavior, so Link hurried on, determined to reach the armory and continue on his quest. 

“D’you think we’ll see the princess?”

Link nearly stopped dead in his tracks, which was an issue given his position blocking the final set of stairs to reach Rito Pillar. He hurriedly stood to the side to let people pass, looking for the source of the voice.

“Of course not.  _ Tourists _ don’t get up to that level of the pillar when there’s visiting royalty, even with the Rito attitude to the monarchy.”

There—two travelers, both Gerudo, jewel traders by the looks of their heavy bags and openly-displayed swords. They passed by with only a glance in Link’s direction, but the gears in his mind were already spinning.

_ It began with the royal family, I believe, and soon our fellow spirits began crying out in pain, _ Satori had said. The only “royal family” anyone  _ ever _ meant by that term was the Hylian royal family, which consisted only of the king and his daughter (though if you listened to the rumors, the Gerudo chieftain Urbosa factored in there somewhere). If the princess was in Rito Village… Link had a chance of getting clues. 

_ Weapons first,  _ he decided, continuing on his way. There would be time to consider getting close to the princess later. Granted, he might not be able to do that at all… 

The armory Rassak had spoken of was nondescript and small, but Link found it easily nonetheless. The challenge turned out to be actually  _ purchasing _ anything from the irascible bowyer who owned the shop, a black-feathered fellow named Egan. 

“Not enough. Either cough up or get out, Hylian,” he said after much fruitless negotiation, turning away to ignore Link in favor of a new bow in the works. 

Link huffed, trying to get his attention to sign, but the rude bowyer refused to even glance over. He sighed and left to come up with a new plan, accidentally drawing the attention of a group of young Rito on a nearby landing platform. 

“The old vulture kicked you out, huh? Tough luck,” said one of them, poorly hiding his amused grin. “Did the same to me earlier—hey, don’t go back in!”

Link, who had merely been aiming to walk away, stopped nonetheless and said,  _ “I need a bow.” _

“That badly, huh? Why don’t you just join the archery competition coming up and try to win one? He makes the prizes.”

One of the other Rito snorted and shoved the one talking to Link. “Really? A Hylian? Sorry, kid, but you don’t stand a chance if Master Revali’s in it—and he is.”

“He  _ is?” _

“I knew it! Hey, let’s go make sure we can get good seats!”

Link was quickly forgotten in favor of much scrambling and flapping to be the first one flying off. He watched them fly away, a plan forming in his mind and a slow smile stretching across his face.

—

_ Tell me of the Rito, Young One. I so rarely visit anywhere beyond my domain, and you seem to like them. _

_ “They are proud.” _

_ Oh? _

_ “For good reason, of course. They do nothing that is not for good reason, be it to protect their people or to become the very best at what they do. I like them because there’s no beating around the bush—either you  _ can _ do what you claim to, and you’re respected for it, or you can’t, and you’re not worth their time. It’s easy to know where you stand with the Rito.” _

—

Link eventually found the place where the archery competition would begin—a pit full of winds on the very edge of the Hebra mountains, known as “the Flight Range” to everyone he asked. His plan was simple: enter the competition, score high enough to earn a good bow, and use the resulting temporary fame to get up to the higher levels of Rito Pillar and try to speak with the princess. The last bit might have been wishful thinking, but the first two steps were doable. 

Somewhat.

Link spent a solid  _ fifteen minutes _ just trying to convince the Rito in charge of registration that no, he wasn’t kidding, he really did want to sign up. As much as he liked the straightforwardness of gaining respect in their culture, he forgot how hard it was to get there when you weren’t seen as a powerful spirit. 

_ After all of this, I’m revealing myself in full power to them, just to be petty.  _

He eventually made it past that particular roadblock and continued on to see what type of competition it was. Accuracy? Speed? Sheer number of targets struck?

As it turned out, it was all of them. A racecourse set up along the border of the Hebra mountains, designed to direct the flow of natural updrafts along a series of obstacles and targets. It was short—Link would have to be quick and light on his feet to keep up with the Rito contestants, let alone pass them. 

So, with two hours to go until the actual competition, Link went to practice at a tiny range far from the other competitors. His efforts to go unnoticed, however, failed miserably when the reigning champion caught wind of his arrival and showed up to investigate. Link had barely even gotten started when excited chatter reached his ears from somewhere over to the right as a navy-blue Rito—unusual coloring, that—landed nearby. He didn’t look over or make a move to leave his section of the range as excited Rito gathered around him, but…

_ Here for you,  _ said the wilds mischievously. 

_ This must be the famous Revali, _ he thought, lowering his low-quality borrowed practice bow to give the new arrival a once-over.  _ He’s… shorter than I thought. And younger—those cheek markings don’t look like makeup.  _

But when he started firing, Link could do nothing but stare, his jaw falling open. Every arrow slammed into its target with almost supernatural speed and precision, going so far as to  _ split a former arrow in two  _ on  _ multiple _ shots. Not even Link could shoot like that, and he was a spirit fueled by the legends told around campfires. 

Then Revali briefly made eye contact and Link hurriedly went back to practicing, determined not to let on that he had been caught off guard. He had a plan to carry out and spirits to save, after all, and no mortal could do more than provide backup for that. 

Revali, unfortunately, didn’t seem to settle for merely glancing at the lone Hylian practicing and ended up on Link’s end of the range not much later, drawing  _ far _ too much attention with his mere presence. 

“You must be the Hylian contestant I’ve been hearing so much about,” he said, in a tone of voice that could only be described as  _ pompous.  _ “I am Revali, defending champion—but I’m sure you know that.”

_ Is he seriously considering this a conversation?  _ Link wondered, half heartedly paying attention to the ensuing chatter about how surely he’d heard of the great Revali, why did he think to test himself against such an archer, and so on and so forth until Link seriously began considering openly plugging his ears. 

Eventually, he settled for ignoring the chatter and returned to practice. Having long since stopped absorbing Revali’s words anyway, it shouldn’t have surprised Link that he seemed to have missed something. 

_ “Fine, _ I suppose I’ll just leave if you‘re not going to say anything,” said Revali eventually, not  _ quite _ snarling. Link watched him leave in a huff, extremely confused but unwilling to try and investigate. 

(Later, lined up to start the competition, he earned more than a few glares from those distinctive green eyes for… some reason).

Again Link reminded himself to stick to the plan as a stuffy owl-like Rito announcer stepped up in front of the line of contestants, wielding a scroll that flapped about in the Hebra winds like a mad cucco. He listed the rules in a droning voice, somehow managing to make the high-stakes race sound boring. Link glanced down the line—two other Hylians were competing, but it was mostly Rito who shuffled in place around him, eager to begin. 

_ Fun time,  _ said the wilds excitedly when the announcer finally finished his endless list of rules. Link had always watched but never truly participated in a competition like this—three stages of obstacles and targets galore, with the goal being to hit as many as possible before dropping out. Link could already see a viable path through the various platforms and such (involving a lot of parkour, which his still-sore back wouldn’t appreciate). The only issue would be going through fast enough to get a good score… 

“On your marks…”

Link tensed, squaring his stance.  _ Breathe in…  _

“Get set…” 

_ Breathe out…  _

“GO!”

Blue eyes snapped open, green light briefly flashing in their depths, and Link sprang forward like a pouncing wolf. He outpaced the slower competitors almost immediately, seizing hold of the tiny lead with a vengeance as he expertly let go of his glider to fire his first arrow. Time slowed down briefly as he did, allowing three arrows to slam into their targets in the time it took most of the others to shoot one. 

_ Cheat, _ said the wilds with a false disapproving tone. Link almost snorted, landing hard on a platform and sprinting forward to catch an updraft. Such manipulation of time was  _ his _ blessing, given to very few—he could use it as he liked, thanks very much. 

_ If they think me blessed by a spirit, so be it. Not too far from the truth… _

The first stage of the race went by in a blur. Link only registered about a third of the competitors dropping out by that point, exhausted, as he kept going near the front. 

_ Draw, release, drop, keep going, and don’t forget to show off a little— _ because why not? He  _ was _ aiming to impress, and judging by the cheering that went up from each bullseye he hit, it was working. 

His boots thudded over wooden platforms and beams, giving way to the snap of fabric from his paraglider and the twang of the bowstring. The flapping of wings echoed through the air through the entire second stage of the race, twice as long as the first—but by the time Link reached the third without even slowing down, there was only one set of wings left keeping pace with him. 

Revali’s. 

_ Just him and me, huh?  _ Link took a precious second to smirk in the general direction of Revali before slowing time and striking three more targets.  _ Alright. If he’s going to be antagonistic, he’ll get the fight he wants. _

(Perhaps adding several backflips to his shots was counterintuitive to his “win the competition” goal, but Link had fun with it regardless). 

_ Draw, release, drop. _

_ Draw, release, drop. _

_ Draw, release— _

Link hit the finishing platform with a heavy  _ thud _ and barely broke his fall with a somersault, ending up on his back and heaving for breath. Someone helped him stand and he dizzily remained on his feet, looking around to gauge his success. 

Second place, as it turned out—he’d lost to Revali by ten targets, a fact which had his Rito adversary practically preening. No matter. Link hadn’t  _ expected _ to win outright, not against someone with more practice and clear skill (even if it did sting a little to see the triumphant glances thrown his way). 

Link would  _ not _ admit to enjoying the excited chatter that gravitated to him the instant the announcer listed the winners. He also would  _ not _ look at Revali to see the smugness fade. 

_ Sure,  _ giggled the wilds. 

Revali, it seemed, wasn’t done with him even after Link was ready to leave and look for the princess with his new bow.  _ “Now _ would you deign to grace the air with your voice? I saw that little trick of yours, you know.”

Link stopped before leaving the platform, turning to face Revali incredulously. So  _ that _ was why he’d been so insulted—Link must have appeared much ruder than intended. 

_ “I do not speak,” _ he said, signing slowly. The look on Revali’s face was almost worth the confusing animosity.

“You use sign. Of  _ course _ you do,” he said stiffly, refusing to meet Link’s eyes. “Hmph. Well—no, don’t try to explain anything, I won’t understand you. My Hylian sign is… rusty.”

But before Link could try to respond in some way to that—perhaps to ask why Revali had suddenly made the turnaround to semi-civil conversation—someone else walked up, unnoticed by either of them until she was practically on top of them.

“Pardon me, but I couldn’t help overhearing, Warrior Revali,” said the new arrival, a young Hylian woman in fine clothes. “I speak Hylian sign. Do you need an interpreter…?”

“Thanks, princess, but I was just leaving,” said Revali, tilting his head in the barest minimum of a bow and turning to do just that.

_ Wait- _

Link finally gave the young woman an actual once-over and registered the royal crest on her cloak and the Triforce symbol on her belt. 

“That’s alright,” said Princess Zelda, glancing briefly at Link with a curious expression. When she smiled, it was with the false courtesy of a noble that wanted something. “I’ll just speak with this up-and-coming champion on my own.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zelda is here and she is suspicious... maybe Link shouldn’t have slowed time during the race...


	3. Chapter 3

Princess Zelda, something-hundredth of her name, had grown up knowing the legends of spirits better than she knew her own family history. She learned of the Great Fairies from the Sheikah, who had one watching over their ancestral home. The dragons were taught to her by her late mother, who called them “Servants of the Springs” and could sometimes track their positions if she was near enough. Her tutors taught her of the Lord of the Mountain and the Deku Tree, as well as their respective dependents, the Blupees and the Koroks.

It was Chief Urbosa, her mother’s other lover, who taught her of the spirit of the wilds.

—

_“She arrives sometimes in the heart of the desert, to watch my people dance and celebrate,” she said to a four-year-old Zelda one chill desert night, allowing the curious child to play with one of her many bangles. Zelda the elder wrote letters at a nearby desk, occasionally smiling down at the normally-stern Gerudo chief playing with her daughter._

_“You said ‘he’ a minute ago,” protested the child, looking up from her laser focus on the designs of a green-and-blue bracelet._

_“The spirit goes as they please, but they respect our laws while within Gerudo walls,” said Urbosa. “Do you want to hear of the spirit or not, Little Bird?”_

_“Tell me about the spirit!”_

_Urbosa chuckled and stood, scooping up the child and depositing her on the nearby bed. “Then settle down, hmm?”_

_“Nothing too exciting, dear,” said the queen, glancing up from her paper._

_“I know how to put a vehvi to bed,” said Urbosa with mock affront. She turned back to Zelda the younger, carefully tucking a thin blanket around her. “Now, where was I?”_

_“Dancing.”_

_“Ah, of course,” said Urbosa. “I don’t mean Hylian dances—stuffy events, if you ask me—“_

_The queen snorted quietly. “Yes, you’ve said, dear.”_

_“If I may_ continue, _Your Majesty?” Urbosa said with poorly-hidden amusement. When the queen made no further attempt to speak, she continued her story. “I speak of warrior dances, complete with spear and sword. The spirit favors those especially, because they allow her to move among us freely. She blesses those she deems skilled enough, and the Gerudo who bear that blessing can go forth into the wilds without fear so long as they keep their heads about them.”_

_“Are_ you _blessed, Urbosa? With your sword and shield…”_

_Urbosa laughed. “Not to my knowledge, Little Bird, but I do know several who are. I have learned to recognize the spirit’s touch.”_

_“How?” demanded the child._

_“You see her touch when animals stare at nothing,” said Urbosa. “You learn to look where most mortals never do. Watch the places no one else treads, and the movements few witness. Look for the warrior who returns home to the family they defend, the one who fought for no glory but the battle’s end, and you will see the touch of the spirit.”_

_Zelda the younger considered these words, nodding slowly. “What is her name?”_

_“The spirit has no name, Little Bird. I suppose she’ll have to wait for someone to pick one, or choose for herself.”_

_“Will I ever meet her?”_

_“Who knows? It’s said she avoids interacting with mortals directly… but then, you seem like the kind of bird who would sing loud enough to catch her attention.”_

—

Zelda kept that sense of wonder when it came to spirits, even after her mother’s death, even after her father became cold and distant. She never heard the Goddess as clearly as she heard the dragons when they made their circuits about Hyrule (not that she heard the Goddess more than once after her mother’s death). 

But then, one dark night, she heard the Goddess’ words clearer than ever before, and felt Her presence fade completely right after.

_Find the wilds. Save Hyrule’s guardians._

Zelda stumbled from her room that night in near tears, still half-asleep and confused. The next day, everyone in the castle knew what was going on—that the Goddess, for whatever reason, had retracted Her already-sparse communications and abandoned Her descendant. 

“Prayer,” said her father, when confronted with the need for a solution. “In desperate times—which these are _not_ yet—we pray. How else will the Goddess be reached?”

His tolerance, already stretched thin by Zelda’s love of field research with Purah the Sheikah scientist, would not stand for Zelda going to investigate on her own in any way that did not involve prayer—so Zelda convinced him that the other four nations of Hyrule would require personal reassurances from the royal family. _Purely_ for diplomacy, of course. 

He may have fallen for it, but King Roham was not a complete idiot, so he sent his daughter to the most spiritual of the four first: the Zora. If this was intended as a nudge towards prayer as Zelda suspected, it failed miserably. Her plan—already in motion with a quick message sent to Purah—was hastened if anything, for she had a partner in crime in Zora’s Domain. 

“Zelda, there you are! How was your journey?” 

“Uneventful, thankfully,” said Zelda, accepting the clawed hand held out to her as she dismounted her horse.

Princess Mipha of the Zora beamed brightly and pulled her into a tight hug, her diminutive stature belying the true strength in her limbs. “Good! Always a pleasure to have you—though, I’m told the occasion is… less than celebratory. Come, allow me to escort you and your guard.”

Zelda fell into step with her easily, the two of them walking well ahead of the four Hylian soldiers and single Sheikah guard who had accompanied their princess on the journey. Several Zora soldiers greeted them at the entrance of the long bridge into Zora’s Domain proper, but did not follow the tiny procession. 

“I’m sure you know the official reason for my visit,” said Zelda, surreptitiously checking to ensure they were not being eavesdropped upon. “But there is something else. I will need your help to fix things soon.”

“On behalf of the Zora,” said Mipha, smiling sweetly with a subtle wink, “I am always willing to help.”

A welcoming dinner had already been prepared by the time Zelda and her escorts arrived at the Domain, so it wasn’t long before King Dorephan was addressing his subjects from his seat atop a raised platform with his children and Zelda by his side. Zelda stood and said her piece, flowery words about support from Hyrule and standing together in dark times, all with sincerity but little substance. 

She saw how some of the soldiers whispered among each other, how they eyed the few Hylians with distrust. Words would not change that—but then, there were still Zora who held no animosity towards Hylians, as Zelda was reminded when she felt a tug on her sleeve from the child sitting beside her. 

“Princess, can you come swimming with Mipha and I in the morning? Please? We can take you up the waterfalls!” 

“Sidon, she’s got important duties,” chastised Mipha, but Zelda was already nodding to the Zora prince. 

“I’m here for two days, you know,” she said. “I’ll have time for an hour or so in the morning, if you’re willing, but after that I’ll have to accept more official hospitality.”

She referred to the audiences with various Zora nobles to provide information and reassurance, of which Sidon appeared to be aware. Zelda wasn’t _entirely_ sure what the Hylian equivalent of his age was, but it was still with the careful solemnity of a young child in a formal situation that Sidon nodded and went back to his dinner. 

Afterwards, it was Mipha who offered to show her to the guest suite—and it was Mipha who snuck back in half an hour later, using the many waterfalls that decorated the outside of Zora’s Domain to make it up to Zelda’s window.

“You said you needed my help with the situation,” she said, gracefully accepting Zelda’s hand to step down from the windowsill. “I trust you can tell me more than what my father knows?”

“Or my father, for that matter,” said Zelda. “Just know, you’ve accepted a job that might require a few alibis.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Mipha flopped onto a nearby low couch, dramatically laying one delicate hand across her forehead. “Never a dull moment with Hyrule’s princess. What experiment will you blow up this time?”

“That was _one_ time-“ Zelda protested, but she cut herself off before finishing. “Never mind. This is a more pressing matter.”

“Of course.”

Zelda sat next to Mipha and offered her some tea made specifically for the occasion. “What do you know of Hyrule’s spirits?”

“Hmm…” Mipha took a sip, thinking. “I used to see Naydra fly by in the distance, if I was lucky… and I’ve actually met Great Fairy Mija, since she’s practically in the backyard of Zora’s Domain. The others I know _of,_ but I don’t think I’ve met any of them.”

“You don’t _think_ you’ve met any of them?”

“That’s the thing, isn’t it? I _wouldn’t_ know for sure,” said Mipha. “Some spirits are invisible—but why do you ask?”

Zelda explained the cryptic words of the Goddess and her concern for Hyrule’s guardian spirits. “Your healing abilities… they’re stronger than most, correct?”

Mipha nodded, holding up her hand and briefly allowing blue light to dance along it. “Yes, that’s right. Even for a royal Zora—oh! You think I’m blessed.”

It wasn’t a question. Zelda squinted at her friend suspiciously, waiting for her to crack.

Mipha set her teacup down on its saucer with a clink. “I… might be. I haven’t told this story to anyone, not even my father.”

She paused to take another sip before continuing. “When I was a young fry, I used to have races with my friends in the lakes below the Domain. Who could reach the northernmost waterfall the fastest, who could make it down the river and back, things like that. It was so routine that we hardly had any supervision. Naturally, one of us went too far one day because of that.

“I got lucky that day. I didn’t hit my head going over the falls, but I did temporarily lose consciousness—long enough to end up in the wetlands without knowing it. I woke up in a patch of mangrove trees far from any civilization with only a vague idea how to get back.”

“You ended up in the wilds,” clarified Zelda.

“Yes. I remember trying to figure out which waterway would be the best path to take when I found something entirely different,” said Mipha. “There was a wild horse nearby stuck in an old hunter’s bear trap. The poor thing’s leg was _mangled_ by that contraption, I couldn’t just sit back… so I broke the trap and decided to try and heal it.”

Zelda winced. Even someone who spent limited time around horses like she did knew that broken bones were often death sentences for the animals. “I’m surprised it didn’t trample you.”

“He certainly tried,” admitted Mipha. “He figured I was there to help eventually, though… but I _couldn’t_ no matter how hard I tried.”

Her hands trembled slightly around the teacup. “I was much weaker at healing back then. _Papercuts_ were a struggle, let alone a shattered bone—but I tried. I looked that horse in the eye and told him that I refused to let someone die on my watch.”

“And then what?” asked Zelda, riveted. 

Mipha frowned. “It’s hard to describe. The trees started rustling, even though the day was still, and I could swear I _felt_ someone standing beside me. The horse kept staring at that spot while I worked, too… and then I heard a voice. I only caught the tail end of what it said before my powers decided to start working ten times better than before, and next thing I knew, the horse was up and prancing around.”

“And the voice? What did it say?”

“All I heard were the words ‘good luck’ before my magic flared up,” said Mipha. “I made it back to the Domain by the end of the day and never saw nor heard from whatever made that voice again, but whatever it did stuck with me.”

“You met the spirit of the wilds! Horses are their domain,” said Zelda, clapping her hands together excitedly. “You _were_ blessed. They must have been able to do so because you were healing a horse—they probably just overdid it a little, if you’re this strong at healing others. What I wouldn’t give to study the mechanics of spirit blessings-“

Zelda stopped, realizing Mipha had been sitting and listening to her ramble. “Er, sorry.”

“Don’t be. If anything, _I’m_ sorry—I don’t know how to find the spirit of the wilds,” said Mipha. “No one finds that particular spirit. I don’t know why the Goddess wants you to go for that one specifically…”

“I don’t either, but I’m going to find out,” said Zelda determinedly. “If you can’t find them… then I’ll just find others who are blessed.”

“I hesitate to say it,” said Mipha, twiddling her finger, “but should finding the most famously elusive spirit in Hyrule be your focus?”

Zelda stopped, biting her lip. “It’s… perhaps not. Not from a political standpoint—but I _have_ to, Mipha. That was only the second time in my life I ever heard the Goddess’ voice, and I couldn’t live with myself if what everyone said about me and my powers was true.”

“Zelda…”

“I _will_ find that spirit,” said Zelda. “And I will _make_ them tell me what’s going on if I have to. I refuse to fail at the one thing the Goddess has ever entrusted me with.”

—

About two weeks later, on her diplomatic trip to the Rito, Zelda thought she had found what she was looking for in the form of the youngest master archer ever—a warrior named Revali, who couldn’t possibly not be blessed by the spirit. His ability to control the winds was _surely_ supernatural, so Zelda did her best to ditch her guards and corner her target for some interrogation.

Unfortunately, Revali was about as happy to answer her questions as a fish was happy to be out of water, and took off using his strange ability as soon as he could escape the clutches of the Rito Elder. Zelda would have sympathized with his urge to stay out of ridiculously polite political meetings, had he not spent the entire time _blatantly ignoring_ her attempts at conversation. 

_I don’t know what I expected,_ she thought, exasperated. _The Rito as a whole don’t appreciate my family or my crown very much. Any self-respecting warrior of theirs wouldn’t give me more than basic respect._

Discouraged, Zelda accepted the Elder’s invitation to watch the archery competition in an effort to show good faith and seek a little bit of cheering up. Rito archery, after all, was her favorite fighting style to watch even over Gerudo swordfighting. 

“It should be quite the treat, Your Highness,” said the Elder jovially, guiding Zelda to the stands. “There’s even a few Hylians this time around…”

_Is that so?_ Zelda took her seat, scanning the lined-up participants. She counted three Hylians—two adults and one teenager. The adults looked confident, but the teenager looked bored, occasionally glancing over at Revali with a confused look on his face. _Ah, that one’s met him too._

Before long, the race was set to start. Zelda kept her eyes on the Hylian who looked her age, curious to see how he would hold his own (or not). 

Seconds later, she was openly gaping without a care for decorum.

“Wow,” said a murmured voice from behind Zelda. It took a lot to impress the stoic Impa, who took her job as the princess’ guard seriously—but the Hylian currently keeping pace with the fastest Rito flyers was certainly “a lot”. 

Zelda watched, enthralled, as he leapt over or climbed every obstacle, sailing into the air and firing arrows as he went. He moved like the winds given form, adapting to every challenge the course had to offer, easily staying just behind the leaders of the pack.

_He’s insane. Impossible._ Zelda couldn’t believe the sheer number of targets he could hit in one pass—impossible for someone using gravity and limited altitude as their only support to shoot from. _Then again… few things are impossible when you count spirits._

“Impa,” said Zelda quietly, hardly moving her mouth, “Tell the other guards they’re not needed for the rest of the day.”

There was no verbal response from her guard, but the brief pressure on Zelda’s shoulder told her she had support—for a little while, anyway. Impa never left her truly alone for long. 

And so it was that Zelda made her way through the crowds after the race’s end, aiming for the Hylian boy she’d seen on the prize podium. He happened to be having a conversation with Revali that looked… rather one-sided.

“My Hylian sign is… rusty,” Revali was saying, which Zelda took as the perfect opportunity to cut in. 

“Pardon me, but I couldn’t help overhearing, Warrior Revali,” she said, accidentally startling the Hylian boy when she approached. He looked at her briefly before refocusing on Revali, who was looking more than a little flustered for some reason. “I speak Hylian sign. Do you need an interpreter…?” 

“Thanks, princess, but I was just leaving,” he said brusquely, turning to strut off. 

Zelda saw the boy stiffen as soon as her title was mentioned, his eyes going wide and almost seeming to flash.

“That’s alright. I’ll just speak with this up-and-coming champion on my own,” she said, summoning her best court smile. 

Belatedly, the boy realized who was talking and fell into a sloppy bow, his blond hair half-spilling from its ponytail.

“Please, rise,” said Zelda hurriedly. She’d gotten used to the detached head nods from the Rito already—it was almost nice compared to the frantic bows other Hylians usually gave. “Tell me, what is your name?”

_“Link,”_ he said, fingerspelling the name carefully after rising from the bow. He hesitated. _“Your Highness.”_

“That was some impressive archery,” she said.

_“Thank you.”_

_This conversation’s getting nowhere._ In truth, Zelda was more researcher than investigator—getting this “Link” to open up might be beyond her ability. 

“Where did you learn to shoot?”

_“I’m self-taught.”_

Zelda blinked. “Impressive! Although you seem to have irritated the defending champion a bit with those skills.”

At that, Link grimaced. _“He should be. I was rude by mistake.”_

“Unfortunate. If I may, where are you from, if not here?”

_“Where I am from is of no consequence to someone of your standing, Highness,”_ said Link. After a moment, he asked, _“If I may, why are you visiting? I never hear the news.”_

That _really_ threw Zelda for a loop. The information about the Goddess’ disappearance had escaped the castle so fast that she had thought it would surely have reached every corner of the continent a mere two weeks later, but perhaps… 

It hit her then that if Link _was_ blessed, she needed his attention and trust—the truth would have to do. “Actually… would you walk with me back to the first pillar bridge? Up here is quite conspicuous.”

_“Of course, Your Highness.”_

Zelda waited until they were past the crowd of passerby before speaking again. “In truth, I am here as personal reassurance. I trust you have at least heard about the plight of the spirits?”

Link’s expression shifted, becoming unreadable. _“I have.”_

“That is why,” said Zelda, making note of his sudden withdrawal. _That’s a personal thing for him. I’ve hit the jackpot!_

She was about to say something else—perhaps just go all-in and ask about the spirit of the wilds—when something caught her foot. Unprepared, Zelda pitched forward, straight towards the muddy ground-

Then there was a strong hand grasping hers and a wiry arm around her shoulders, halting the fall before Zelda could get hurt. 

“Er…” Zelda got her footing again and awkwardly blinked at Link, who released her shoulder but seemed intent on staring quizzically at where their hands joined. 

Before either of them could do anything else, a sword materialized in midair, pointed straight between Link’s eyes. He released Zelda’s hand like it was a venomous snake and leapt backwards, hands raised in surrender to a stony-eyed Impa. 

“Impa! He wasn’t attacking me, Goddess, I merely tripped,” protested Zelda. Her guard lowered the sword, keeping Link pinned on her gaze alone. He looked understandably terrified, but underneath that… a steely sort of gaze, one that Zelda saw in the eyes of knights every day. 

“Thank you,” said Zelda sincerely.

_“You’re very welcome,”_ said Link, momentarily taking his eyes off of Impa. _“Good day, Princess.”_

“Oh, wait-“

But before Zelda could stop him, Link had simply disappeared into the nearby crowds. 

“He moves like a Sheikah,” observed Impa.

“He’s blessed. Better than that, I think he’s close to the spirit,” hissed Zelda, joining her guard on the path back up to Rito Pillar. “We’ve _got_ to find him again.”

“Perhaps he will be in the Gerudo Desert when we visit, Princess,” said Impa, who was willing to go behind King Rhoam’s back only to a certain degree. There would be no redirecting or delaying of their journey on her watch.

Zelda wracked her brains for a possible solution and found none. Besides starting a Crown-ordered manhunt—which would _never_ fly with her father—she could do little but admit that Link was unlikely to crop up again. 

At the same time… the brief contact of their hands had obviously caused something. When Zelda flexed her fingers, they tingled slightly as if she’d made the mistake of touching something metallic in the presence of Urbosa—a tiny, lingering static shock that told her something strange was going on. She couldn’t afford to simply let him go.

_I never get this feeling from touching Mipha, and she’s definitely blessed, so it’s not that. What’s so special about Link?_

—

The journey to Gerudo Desert was, as always, long and hard—but Zelda never minded. She often felt more welcome in the Gerudo capital than she did in Hyrule Castle, a holdover from the days where her mother spent more time in the desert than she did in Hyrule proper and took Zelda along. 

Despite Zelda’s contented enjoyment of the trip, however, Impa remained constantly on edge (and not in her usual vigilant manner). She kept squinting into the woods whenever their party passed through, to the point where one of the Hylian soldiers jokingly asked her if she needed glasses.

The soldiers learned not to make jokes like that. 

“We’re being shadowed,” said Impa one night, stepping into Zelda’s temporary sleeping quarters with barely a knock to signal her arrival.

Zelda froze in the process of braiding her hair for the night. “Into a military outpost? Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“What—who-?”

“That, I have not been able to discern,” said Impa slowly. “It… certainly doesn’t seem to be your average stalker. I saw no sign of them with the naked eye—my senses, on the other hand…”

“And what did you sense?” Zelda asked, abandoning her hair to give Impa her full attention. “Hylian, or something else? Another Sheikah?”

“No. Princess, what I sensed was decidedly beyond mortality,” said Impa. 

Zelda gasped. “A spirit? Perhaps we don’t have to go looking for the wilds after all-“

“No,” said Impa, interrupting Zelda for the first time in her history as personal guard of the princess. “I know the touch of spirits, Princess. I grew up under the watchful eye of a Great Fairy. Whatever is following us holds none of the divinity and only a portion of the power, but that does not mean it is necessarily a mortal, either.”

“What _exactly_ did you sense? Describe it.”

Impa hesitated—another first. “I can only call the feeling… _wrong._ It leaves a bad aftertaste on the senses. The wildlife understands that it should not be here—have you noticed the silence when we pass through?”

_So, not the blessing of the spirit of the wilds,_ Zelda thought. Swallowing, she said, “And you believe it to be malicious?”

“Potentially. We may need to remain here for some time to try and judge that.”

“We can’t do that,” said Zelda immediately. “The Gerudo are the last stop on this journey. We cannot simply put them off.”

“I am thinking of your safety, Princess,” said Impa calmly. 

“We’re only another day’s travel away from the desert,” argued Zelda. “Once there, the Gerudo will be more than capable of keeping us safe. Lady Urbosa _herself_ promised to meet us at the gate.”

Impa hummed at the back of her throat. “In the end, it is your decision, Princess.”

“Then I say we continue,” said Zelda. “At the same pace—we don’t want to inform this stalker that we know of their presence.”

“As you wish, Princess.”

“Is there anything else before we turn in?”

“Actually, there is,” said Impa, reaching into the breast pocket of her robes. She pulled out a small envelope, stamped with blue wax and smelling strongly of woodsmoke. “This managed to reach us—from my sister.”

Zelda took it eagerly, examining the name written on the back. “Impa, this is addressed to you.”

“Officially, of course,” said Impa. “If you’ll excuse me, Princess, I’ll leave you to it.”

Zelda bid her goodnight and snickered when Impa left. Purah, it seemed, had anticipated everything—including the king’s unwillingness to begin an official investigation (or rather, to allow his daughter to do so). She was at her desk in a flash, cracking the seal and eagerly scanning the letter’s rambling contents.

_Princess,_

_I’m sorry to say that our investigation has been… less than fruitful in terms of good news. Not that there isn’t any! We have managed to locate almost every single spirit, which is good! There’s just the issue of their_ _precise_ _locations, you see. I’ll include a list for your convenience. Do share it with my baby sister at your convenience, she’ll want to know._

  * _Satori, Lord of the Mountain (and Blupees): missing. The scouts I sent came back and told me that the sacred pond was barren and the mountaintop empty of life. I’ve never seen him, but I know that doesn’t bode well._


  * _Great Fairies Cotera, Mija, Kaysa, and Tera: status unknown. All of their springs, not just Cotera’s, have been completely blocked off by an unknown (and HIGHLY toxic) substance. Do NOT get it on your bare skin! I may or may not be writing this right-handed. Good thing I’m ambidextrous._


  * _Dragons Farosh, Naydra, and Dinraal: their respective Goddess springs. Probably. See, no one can get close without being assaulted by their respective elements. The scout I sent up Mount Lanayru came back with rather nasty frostbite (he’s fine! Just chilly)._


  * _The Deku Tree (and Koroks): who knows. Sorry, but no one can get through those blasted Lost Woods without Koroks laughing at them, so I’m going to go ahead and assume they’re fine._


  * _The Horse God, Malanya: same as the Great Fairies. Granted, I would expect that one to block themself off from mortals, but the same thorns blocking the fairies have popped up around that spring. The plot is likely to cut the spring-bound spirits off from their source of rupees, and if I’m right… it’s working._
  * _The spirit of the wilds: status unknown. The wilds themselves seem to be doing relatively fine, unlike the respective domains of the other spirits, but that could be for any reason. Personally, I think whatever’s causing this just can’t find the bugger. Good for him. Probably off playing pranks on my cousin (the one who hates horses)._
  * _You: hopefully, better than the others! Really, I mean it. As Hylia’s descendant, you count as a guardian of Hyrule, even without Her voice. Keep an eye out!_



_As for what’s causing this… I’m even more sorry to say that we have next to no idea. I’ve been scouring history and mythology books practically nonstop. All I can find is something about a spirit associated with Hylia (but in a bad way) who occasionally comes back to sow malice and chaos and all that. I tried to ask the creepy statue down at the outskirts of Hateno if that was him, but_ ~~_he said the RUDEST things_~~

_I’ve gotten off track. Suffice to say the statue didn’t do it. I’ll try to get some samples of the toxic thorns to analyze, but I’ll have to do so at the Hateno lab to avoid the king’s suspicion, so that may take a while. Best of luck! (And tell Lady Urbosa I said hello)._

_Yours with a snap, Purah_

Helpful as it was to have _any_ sort of lead, Zelda was still disheartened to know that it seemed almost every single spirit was either blocked off from mortals or… 

_Not destroyed, surely. The Lord of the Mountain may not be in his territory, but that doesn’t mean he’s gone. The dragons are clearly alive, to be stirring up storms._

_They can’t be gone._

Zelda sighed, tucked the letter into her field journal for safekeeping, and set about getting ready for bed. Urbosa would help calm her fears—all she had to do was make it to the Gerudo capital. 

—

The instant they entered Gerudo Canyon, Zelda started to understand what Impa meant by “wrong”. The sandy walls rising around her and cradling the road, formerly nothing but a signal that Gerudo Desert was near, now felt more like the walls of a trap. The horses seemed to share her apprehension—although Zelda was a habitually terrible rider, so that wasn’t out of place. There was just the _wrong_ feeling.

That, and another disconcerting thing.

_Where are all the other travelers?_ Normally, the road to Gerudo Desert was full of people—even as the day got hotter, there should have been merchants and wandering Gerudo coming out of the woodwork. Instead, the hoofbeats of her party’s horses echoed off the canyon walls alone. 

When Zelda risked turning around to check the road behind her, she saw only one speck far behind herself and the guards—a lone rider, too far behind to identify. Probably a trader of some sort… or not. They did seem to be getting closer, so she’d be able to tell eventually. 

Still, even Impa seemed only slightly inconvenienced by their strange surroundings, so Zelda went back to trying to keep her unruly horse in line. It wouldn’t be much longer until the stable and surrounding people came into view… 

_Clop._ Hoofbeats echoed off the walls and through her skull, reverberating entirely too much. 

One of her guards coughed. 

A lizard scurried behind a barren bush, eyeing them suspiciously. 

_There-she-is_

“Did you say something, Impa?” 

“No, Princess.”

_Hylia-born-lover-of-spirits_

“There it is again! This isn’t funny, you know.”

“Princess-“

_Kill-her_

A grating cackle tore through the still, dry air as a red-clad figure leapt from above, brandishing a glinting sickle—the point of which plunged straight towards Zelda’s heart. 

“HYAH!”

Only Impa’s quick thinking and lightning-fast reflexes saved her—the ornery horse lurched forwards as soon as Impa’s hand made contact with its side, successfully yanking Zelda out of the path of the masked attacker. Unfortunately, the horse decided that tossing its rider to the ground was the best next course of action and promptly galloped away—leaving Zelda and her guards with the lone figure. An easy battle.

Or not. 

When the first soldier’s sword swung for the masked attacker’s neck, he simply _disappeared_ in a puff of smoke. 

“Impa, look out!” Zelda cried, watching the masked attacker materialize behind her guard with his sword raised. Impa whipped around and parried, but Zelda barely had time to be relieved before four more puffs of smoke appeared behind her other guards. 

_Oh, Hylia-_

But no sooner had Zelda scrambled to her feet did yet another puff of smoke appear behind her, producing a towering red-clad lump of muscle wielding a sword larger than she was tall. For the first time, she saw their masks clearly—expressionless white ovals with a bloodred eye painted on. A _Sheikah_ eye, turned upside-down.

“Goodbye, _Princess,”_ snarled her attacker, raising his sword.

Her guards were engaged in battle. Impa herself could only get glancing blows in with her opponent.

Zelda was alone. 

She dodged the first overhand strike by a hair, scrambling away from the screaming horses and battling guards. Two plans warred within her mind—run and abandon them, or try to stall long enough for her guards to intervene? 

But when Zelda’s back hit the wall of the canyon with barely a foot between her and the attacker, the plans were out the window. She had nowhere to run.

One last low cackle reached her ears as the sword glittered above her, ready to plunge-

“LOOK OUT!”

“Civilian-!”

_THOCK._

Zelda dared to look up and gasped, watching her former attacker stagger with an arrow buried in his shoulder. Two more almost seemed to sprout from nearly the same spot, sending splotches of blood flying and her attacker flopping to the ground. Next thing Zelda knew, a _horse_ (of all things) was standing guard in front of her, lashing out at another attacker without a rider in sight. 

_Found-him-that-one_

A glance to Zelda’s left revealed a hooded archer currently dodging sword strikes from one of the masked attackers. He kicked them hard enough to knock their sword flying and switched back to arrows faster than Zelda’s eyes could follow. 

_Get-out-too-strong_

And that was that. Puffs of smoke heralded the retreat of the attackers—except for the one felled in front of Zelda. That one merely dissolved, melting into a puddle of goo that soaked into the ground and left an inky-black stain. 

“Gross,” she mumbled, struggling to process the series of events.

“Princess!” Impa almost seemed to teleport to her side, glaring suspiciously at the hooded archer and the mystery horse even as she checked over Zelda for injuries. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine—you’re bleeding!”

“A flesh wound, Princess,” assured Impa, shifting one arm to cover the gash on her thigh. 

“Good. Hey, wait!” said Zelda, who had spotted the hooded archer start to move towards his horse as if to leave. “I need to thank you. Who…?”

Her voice died in her throat when he lowered the hood, revealing a familiar face.

“You’re the one who nearly won that archery competition,” said Impa, lowering her guard slightly. Zelda’s other guards followed her lead and relaxed, one or two going to clap Link on the back (he dodged, but the sentiment seemed to get through). 

_“I was in the area,”_ he said, his signs slightly disrupted by his horse’s sudden need to nip his sleeve. _“No need to thank me. I did what anyone would do.”_

“Not just anyone would get their horse to jump straight over the heads of battling soldiers,” said Impa, raising one snow-white eyebrow. “Or launch themselves off mid-leap.”

Link’s ears turned red. It occurred to Zelda that he was likely the rider she’d seen behind them and she said, “Just ‘in the area’, hmm? Some coincidence—though I can’t say I’m complaining.”

Link’s entire face flushed. _“Caught me. I want to help.”_

“With…?”

Link glanced at the other soldiers, who had lost interest in the conversation to bandage wounds and tend horses. Unbidden, his own horse moved between him and the soldiers, blocking his next signs. _“Spirits, Princess. I can help save them, but not alone. I know things.”_

“Of course. You’re blessed, aren’t you?”

_“Sort of. Spirits will trust me.”_

“Should _we_ trust you?” said Impa archly. 

_“I did just save you,”_ said Link. _“This isn’t a one-time offer. I’m not looking for glory or money. I just want to save them.”_

Impa shifted her stance, tapping the side of her uninjured leg almost imperceptibly twice—a signal they’d worked out some time ago. _He’s not lying._

“Very well, I accept your help,” said Zelda, holding out her hand before Impa could stop her. Link shook it after a moment’s hesitation, causing that same staticky feeling from before when their hands met. 

“We’ll work something out,” said Impa quietly, jerking her head in the direction of the other guards. “In the meantime, you can ride alongside—Princess, where’s your horse?”

Zelda groaned. “Probably all the way at the stable by now. May I ride with you?”

Impa nodded professionally, though there was a slight twinkle in her eyes. 

_She’s more like Purah than she’ll admit._

—

Link knew he’d gotten massively lucky against the assassins. It was a good thing the princess’ guards had softened them up already, but if he had been just a little bit later… 

As if sensing his thoughts (which wouldn’t be surprising) Epona snorted and twisted her head back to nip his sleeve. Link obligingly patted her neck.

_You did amazingly, you know. Thank you,_ he said. 

She snorted again and went back to keeping pace with the princess’ escorts. In the distance, Gerudo Canyon stable and the marketplace beyond came into view, and not long later Link was swinging off of Epona and allowing two stablehands to take her in. Horses didn’t like the desert much—a sentiment Link didn’t necessarily share. He certainly liked the _people,_ it was just a bit hard to find concentrated wilds out there. 

_Then again,_ he thought, adjusting his boot and watching the princess search through the crowd at the marketplace’s entrance for someone, _people can have the wilds within them._

“So, _spirit,_ were you planning on saying anything?”

Link stiffened and whipped around, spotting the princess’ Sheikah guard observing him from the shadows. The wilds had said nothing of her presence, nor had he sensed her for himself—Sheikah and their legendary stealth. There was a reason he avoided speaking with Cotera back in the day. 

_“How did you know?”_ he said, stepping into the shadows of the stable to avoid anyone spotting them. The guard—the princess had called her Impa—raised an eyebrow at him, unamused.

“You just told me,” she said. “That, and your presence speaks for itself. No horse behaves like that around a mortal, and no mortal leaves such a small imprint on nature wherever they go. Which spirit are you, and why are you in mortal form… Satori?”

_“Close guess, but no,”_ admitted Link, who was cursing himself for walking right into that. _“Spirit of the wilds, at your service.”_

Impa made a sound that _might_ have been considered a snort, had it not come from a terrifying Sheikah warrior. “Goddess, the princess has been looking for you since this all began. You better tell her quick.”

_“Planning to. Too many people.”_

“As long as you mean no harm, spirit,” said Impa, who suddenly seemed to have gotten much scarier. “I trust that whatever afflicts your fellow guardians has not corrupted you. Know that should you turn out to be against us, in whatever capacity, and end up hurting the princess… you will regret it.”

_You’re immortal,_ Link told himself, but the look in Impa’s eyes made that statement fall a little flat. _“I’m here to help, I swear. She is a fellow guardian, you know.”_

“I’m aware of the phenomenon of the Goddess-blood princess, spirit,” said Impa, relaxing. “Link. You picked that name for yourself, hmm?”

_“It seemed funny at the time.”_

“Interesting. Stick close to myself and the princess—and mention nothing of your true purpose to the other guards,” said Impa. She left their shadowy corner then, going to meet with the princess and an imposing Gerudo woman near the desert gateway. Link let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding and followed shortly after, only glancing back at the road once.

_Traveling with the princess should be interesting, at least,_ he thought. _Less stressful than trying to follow her without getting caught, anyway._


	4. Chapter 4

Zelda often went to her mother for questions about spirits as a child, knowing full well that the queen had met nearly all of them in her lifetime. The queen had had a wonderful way of spinning stories taller than the sky to those willing to listen, but her tales of the spirits were always true. The Lord of the Mountain was “mysterious and stiff”, the Great Fairies were “cheerful and giving”, the Horse God “outright terrifying, but playful” and so on. The spirit tale that fascinated Zelda the younger the most, however, was always the Great Deku Tree—for her mother had met him face-to-face when no mortal was supposed to be able to breach his defenses. 

—

_ “What’s that, Mama? Are you drawing the castle again?” _

_ “No, dear,” said the queen, helping her daughter clamber up the chair and into her lap. She edged the paper she had been sketching on just out of reach of sticky toddler fingers and propped it carefully on the books lined up along the edge of her desk. “See, it’s a forest.” _

_ “Have I been there?” Zelda the younger knew the drill around artists and did not try to touch the sketch, but she did point to it vaguely. _

_ “No. No one has but me in recent memory,” said the queen, chuckling lightly. “It’s Great Hyrule forest, Little Bird—the one visible from the north towers.” _

_ “The dark one?” _

_ “No, that’s a different magical forest.” _

_ Little Zelda’s eyes gleamed with an uncanny light. “Magic? Like spirits?” _

_ “It houses spirits, yes. Do you know which ones?” _

_ “The Great… Tree Man,” said the princess with great focus. “And the forest children.” _

_ The queen smiled and tweaked her daughter’s nose. “The Great Deku Tree and his Koroks, Little Bird. I’ve met them.” _

_ “You have? Tell me about them!” _

_ “I can’t say everything, now,” said the queen. “There are secrets that spirits dislike we mortals knowing all the intricacies of.” _

_ “Do  _ you _ know all of them?” asked the princess wonderingly.  _

_ “I know most of them,” said the queen. “The Deku Tree, now, he knows every single secret there is. He’s even met the one spirit I never have.” _

_ “I’ll meet them all,” said Zelda the younger immediately. “I want to know  _ all _ the secrets, Mama.” _

_ “To meet the Deku Tree, you have to know the right path through the Lost Woods, you know,” said the queen. “And if you ask me… I think you’re plenty clever enough to figure it out.” _

—

Zelda had never been able to ask all the questions she wished of the few spirits she’d met. The Great Fairies certainly loved gossip, but her minders were always sure to drag their princess to her duties during her brief visits. The dragon Naydra, met on a royal outing to the end of Lanayru road, didn’t speak at all—no questions there.

_ Link, _ however, was practically stuck to Zelda’s side. He wasn’t a spirit, just blessed, but the things he clearly knew about spirits—she would have to  _ really _ focus to stay on task. 

“Little Bird, you trailed off again.”

Zelda snapped back to attention and smiled sheepishly at Urbosa, who had leveled one auburn eyebrow at her. “My bad. I’ve had a bit of a day already…”

“Does that new companion of yours have anything to do with it?” said Urbosa, nodding to where Link stood by the desert’s entry gate. Zelda’s new spirit-touched friend was staring off into the dunes with a contemplating look in those piercing blue eyes. 

“He’s the reason I’m here to tell you of it,” said Zelda frankly, which predictably made Urbosa’s eyes flash.

“You can tell me more within the capital’s walls,” she said. “I see your guards have vai among them—good, they can come with. Your friend…?”

But before Zelda could answer, Link was already wading through the sand towards them. He awkwardly bowed to Urbosa, who nodded in graceful acknowledgment.

“This is Link,” said Zelda, switching tack to polite introduction. “As I said, he’s the only reason I’m still here. Link, this is Lady Urbosa, Chieftain of the Gerudo.”

_ “Good afternoon. And it’s ‘she’ at the moment,”  _ signed Link.

“Oh?”

_ “It changes every now and then.” _

“I know several like you. Well met, Link,” said Urbosa, extending her hand. They clasped wrists in a warrior’s handshake, though Link’s face looked more than a little overwhelmed. “I owe you a debt. The princess is as precious to me as my own daughter, and any friend of hers is a friend of mine.”

“Urbosa,” Zelda hissed, embarrassed, but she knew it would not stop her. 

“You are welcome within our walls so long as your ‘changes’ do not switch back to voe,” continued Urbosa with only a wink in Zelda’s direction. “Now, come. I will hear your tale later, but for now, there is official business to conduct.”

_ Ah, that,  _ thought Zelda, reminded of her official presence in the desert. She caught Impa’s watchful eye and gestured for her to take Link along—the leather armor, light pants, and short cloak she wore was far from good desert gear, and Impa could direct her to the guard charge of the outfitting of everyone in their party. Zelda herself had packed some lighter clothes (not full Gerudo style, but close enough) and gladly went with Urbosa to find a place to change.

After that there were greetings to various high-standing merchants and a few members of Urbosa’s family, announcements of her presence to the bazaar surrounding the mouth of the desert and the settlements immediately behind it, and enough smiling and waving to make Zelda’s muscles cramp. It felt like hours before the sun dipped lower in the sky, ushering them through the gates of the Gerudo capital and towards the everlasting oasis that crowned their palace. Link and the guards met up with them, but Zelda hardly had time to exchange words before being whisked away into the welcoming celebrations.

_ At least,  _ she thought, somehow making a coherent speech to the gathered people,  _ the Gerudo don’t require speeches so long-winded as the Zora, and don’t expect me to eat rocks like the Gorons…  _

(Not that she held any particular malice towards the Gorons—their lord had been nothing but friendly, if loud—but Zelda’s diplomacy only went so far after discovering no information on any spirits on Death Mountain). 

The evening wore on until Zelda found herself in her guest quarters, a floor above where guests lower-ranked than royalty but still important stayed—where her guards and Link would be staying, the latter per her own request. 

Zelda leapt to her feet when a gentle knock sounded on the door, abandoning her journal in favor of allowing Impa to enter. To her disappointment, no one else followed.

“Is Link…?”

“Passed out,” said Impa, guessing Zelda’s intent. “Seems the battle took a lot out of her. I suggest you go to sleep soon, rather than stay up writing down your inevitable storm of questions.”

“I would  _ not _ have done that,” protested Zelda, but the look in her guard’s face quelled it. “Alright, fine. Sleep well.”

“I will in a moment,” said Impa. “Are you alright? Your distraction cannot only be from matters of spirits.”

Zelda bit her lip. “I’m fine, just rattled.”

Impa did not leave.

Zelda sighed. “Very well. I’m worried, and not just for myself—what will I do after this trip is over? Try to sneak behind my father’s back within the castle walls with Link in tow until we figure something out? You and I both know this is my one good chance at solving the problem, and it’s practically over.”

“There’s little I can say to that, Princess,” said Impa, “except this: I have faith you will figure something out. I know that there are few things that can stand in your way once you’re truly determined.”

“Even my father?”

“Even him.”

—

Zelda seized her chance around midmorning the next day—literally. She practically yanked Link aside during the busy preparations around them (for several expeditions to the Gerudo towns deeper within the desert) and trusted Impa to keep any distractions out of their way for at least a few minutes. 

“I have questions,” she began, opening her small notebook with a  _ snap _ that would have made Purah proud. 

Link, backed into a corner, looked down her nose at the pencil Zelda was waving in the air—not condescendingly, it was just rather close to her face.  _ “So do I.” _

“That better not be snark. This is  _ important,”  _ said Zelda, retracting the pencil so she could set it to paper. “When and where were you blessed? Do you know why? You said spirits trust you—why? Most importantly: where is the spirit of the wilds? I need to find them  _ quickly.” _

_ “The spirits know me personally,”  _ said Link eventually, as if unsure where to begin—or apprehensive, seeing as she kept glancing away from their corner at the bustling Gerudo nearby. 

“They  _ what? _ You’ve met all of them?” When Link nodded, Zelda groaned. “Ugh. You beat me to it!”

Link snorted and Zelda glared at her with no real malice. “Fine, backtrack—how did that happen?”

_ “I travel and I listen. I never said I was  _ good _ friends with all of them, just that they know me,”  _ said Link, with the look of someone remembering an unfortunate acquaintance.  _ “Horse God in particular… scary.” _

A quiet whistle from Impa cut off Zelda’s next words and she groaned again. “This conversation isn’t over, you know.”

Again and again, her attempts to question Link were thwarted—whether by some high-class merchants who wanted to hear royal reassurances personally, or by the inability to speak while hitching a ride with sand seals, or seemingly  _ anything else  _ that could potentially halt a conversation. Two  _ entire _ days passed in such fashion, and the most Zelda was able to learn was that the Lord of the Mountain happened to be good friends with Link.

_ I can’t tell if she’s avoiding me or not, but something’s clearly wrong…  _

And on top of it all, Zelda was starting to get the feeling that there was something in the sand dunes that stretched around her. Something that lurked behind every boulder, underneath each road, atop the natural rock pillars on the edges of the wastelands. Presences that disappeared in her mind’s eye, voices on the wind… Zelda was either losing it or picking up on some unknown entity. 

Impa—a true Sheikah warrior—had not heard the grating voices the day the assassins attacked, but Zelda had. She dared not ask if her guard sensed the presence as well. 

_ Link, _ perhaps, could hear it… but the odd blessed warrior almost seemed sick as their time in the desert dragged on. She kept dragging her feet and constantly gravitated to the nearest animal, be it sand seal or random lizard, to the point where the sand seal handlers recognized her on sight. Zelda didn’t really have the heart to bother her past a certain point—not with the massive bags under her eyes. 

No one reacted to the presence, though its pressure got stronger in Zelda’s skull. 

No one acted as though anything was amiss, though Zelda got increasingly jumpy. 

No one noticed.

No one saw-

Until it all came to a head the day Zelda was scheduled to leave the desert for Hyrule Castle. 

“Goodbye, Little Bird,” said Urbosa, pulling her into a hug just outside the gates of the Gerudo capital. She practically had to kneel to do so properly, but the warmth and pressure helped calm Zelda’s mind nonetheless. “I wish you good luck on your return journey… and on your mission. I have faith that you will not fail, and I only wish I could do more.”

“Thank you,” said Zelda, clinging tight. Behind her, she knew Impa and Link were waiting to meet with the other guards and trek to the desert gateway—and further beyond, that strange presence lurked, applying its pressure to her mind like never before. “Urbosa… be careful. We don’t know what all is out there.”

Urbosa pulled away, her expression darkening. “I suggest you ask the Sheikah about that, Little Bird. Servants of the royal family they may be… but they do have secrets.”

With that, Urbosa bid her goodbye one last time and departed, pulled away by her duties. Zelda went to join her guards, adjusting her regular traveling gear and suppressing a headache. They had made it almost all the way to Kara Kara Bazaar when-

_ Do-we-strike _

Zelda stumbled, nearly knocking Impa right into the sands. Link—pale despite the desert sun—helped her stand and stared out into the dunes, brow furrowed. 

_ No-not-yet _

“Princess, are you alright? Have you had enough water?” There was Impa, concerned and guarded, though she did not appear to have heard the voices.

Link still stared into the dunes, frowning. 

“The—the assassins, Impa, we have to move-“

_ She-knows-strike-now _

Only sheer shock made it possible for Impa to be moved by Zelda’s shove, taking the both of them out of the path of an arrow. The projectile thudded into the sands as Impa regained her balance and instantly yanked Zelda behind her, drawing her Eightfold Blade in one smooth motion. She cut a second arrow from the air as if swatting a bug. 

_ Overwhelm- _

Zelda ducked a third arrow and spotted bursts of smoke around her and the guards, too many to count-

_ Destroy-them-now _

_...curse… _

She was tugged to her feet and recognized a guard, pointing towards the bazaar, but Zelda didn’t want to abandon them—not with a new sensation joining the fray-

_ …I curse you… _

Husky, androgynous, it had less of a sound and more of a  _ feeling _ in Zelda’s mind. A tingle not unlike the one she got from touching Link filled her ears even as the guard fell to an arrow and Zelda found herself facing a charging swordsman alone. She grabbed the guard’s fallen sword and swung it blindly, feeling it connect with a wet  _ thud- _

_ I curse your travels, your weapons, your luck… _

Zelda tore her eyes away from the red and black blood staining the sands and her borrowed sword, spotting Link engaged in battle with another swordsman. Oddly enough, she fought with her eyes closed, focused intently-

_ I curse you.  _

Then the swordsman tripped and disappeared into smoke before Link’s sword could connect. Triumphant, Link raised a hand and snapped, not unlike an attack from Urbosa-

_ Twang.  _ Bowstrings broke in their owner’s hands, thwarting the death of more than one guard.

_ Crack.  _ Swords shattered into bits, leaving the assassins defenseless.

_ Poof.  _ Without so much as a rallying cry, they all retreated, leaving behind only about three fallen bodies and the remaining adrenaline of their attack. 

The presence disappeared.

“Princess!”

Impa ran to her side, checking for injuries—but Zelda’s eyes were elsewhere. “...Link?”

_ “I’m okay,”  _ said Link, who very much did not  _ look _ okay.  _ “Tired. We need to move.” _

“You don’t give orders,” said Impa sternly—though with much more respect than she would have given anyone else doing the same thing. “Come, we’re going—the desert’s gateway and the stable, now!”

—

_ Shuf. Shuf. Shuf. _

Zelda kept pacing behind the stable, certain that she would wear a hole straight through her boots and caring not a bit. Link leaned up against one of the poles which held up the main tent, occasionally pinching her own arm in an attempt to stay alert. Only Impa remained still—but it was a predator’s stillness, like a cat waiting to pounce. All she needed was a proper target. 

“Are they tracking us somehow?” Zelda eventually said, wondering aloud.

“Us, no,” said Impa slowly. “But… they may be tracking me.”

Zelda froze. What had Urbosa said? 

_ “Servants of the royal family they may be… but they do have secrets.” _

“And what,” she said, stopping momentarily, “do you mean by that?”

“The emblem on their masks is familiar to me,” said Impa. “I’m ashamed to say it took me so long to place it—old enemies of my tribe wore that symbol before disappearing completely thousands of years ago. That’s all I know about them besides legends of their dark power. Whatever they are now… they were once Sheikah.”

Zelda glanced between Impa and Link, the latter of which looked wide-awake for a split second. “Sheikah? But you said whatever you sensed the other day was not mortal.”

“I did not sense them today,” said Impa. “We Sheikah have ways of tracking each other through our senses which do not work on other races. We also have ways of blocking said tracking. That combined with the symbol and the magic they wield…”

“We’re facing corrupted Sheikah? Great,” said Zelda. “And another thing—Link, what did you do?”

_ “Me?” _

“I heard—something coming from you,” said Zelda, not quite willing to call it a voice. “Then all their bowstrings snapped and their swords broke. That’s not just bad luck. That’s magic.  _ Spirit _ magic. Tell me the truth right now: who are you?”

“I suppose you don’t have to worry about how to tell her now,” said Impa, when Link was a little too slow to respond. 

Link shot her a slight grin and stiffly bowed to Zelda.  _ “Spirit of the wilds. I did mean to say something earlier, if it helps.” _

Zelda stared at her, feeling the beginnings of an eye twitch. “You. You’re the spirit of the wilds,” she said flatly.

_ “Yes…?” _

“For the  _ love _ of  _ all that is holy!” _ Zelda kicked a nearby clump of stubborn canyon grass, startling her companions. “This  _ entire _ time! I’ve been running around like a headless cucco with my damn notebook, questioning everyone I could get my hands on about your whereabouts and you just let me believe you were some blessed  _ mortal _ and not—not-!”

Belatedly, Zelda realized she had gotten right up in Link’s face by the end of her outburst and backed off slightly, taking a deep breath.

_ “Sorry,”  _ said Link sheepishly.  _ “Like I said, I meant to say something. There were too many people around.” _

_ “You _ knew,” said Zelda to Impa accusingly. 

“I grew up around a spirit, Princess,” said her guard evenly. “But back to the matter at hand—the assassins.”

“Yes, the corrupted Sheikah,” said Zelda, shooting Link a look that said  _ we are not done here. _ “Say you’re right and they  _ are _ tracking you. How can we circumvent that?”

“I  _ am _ right,” said Impa in her ‘no-arguments’ tone. “I could not sense them coming today, but when they arrived, I felt a tug. I used to play tracking games with my fellow students as a child—I know the feeling of being tracked using magic. It’s me, and I cannot block them from doing so when they have already blocked me.”

Link coughed, drawing their attention to her.  _ “I sense them coming distantly. Can you teach me to block…?” _

Impa was already shaking her head before Link even finished. “It is a Sheikah art designed specifically for  _ mortals _ of my blood. Within a mortal body you may be, but your soul is immortal and your body Hylian.”

Link came up with a few more ideas, all shot down by Impa, but Zelda was no longer paying attention. Her mind was spinning like a top in her attempt to make a plan that wouldn’t get them all killed or otherwise destroyed.

_ I need to fix the spirit problem and I need to fix the assassin problem. How can I possibly do both? They’re tracking Impa, and it won’t be long before one of my guards actually dies—or I die—in their assaults. The spirits get worse by the day as I dither.  _

“I can’t stay on this trip,” she said aloud. “I have to leave.”

“Absolutely  _ not, _ Princess,” said Impa reflexively, but her expression changed a second later. “No, I… might understand your reasoning.”

“I’m not placing  _ any _ of the blame on you, Impa,” said Zelda, stepping forward to lay a hesitant hand on her guard’s shoulder, “but I’ve fulfilled my duty to the mortal races of the land—now I have to protect the spirits. I’ve found the wilds. I have to save Hyrule’s guardians, and I  _ must _ travel faster than I do now.”

Link coughed again to get their attention.  _ “What about your other guards?” _

“Lady Urbosa will keep them safe if she knows I wish it,” said Zelda as the pieces fell into place in her mind. “Link, would you travel with me?”

A solemn nod. 

“Good. We need to leave as soon as possible,” said Zelda. “Impa… I’m sorry, for what it’s worth.”

“I’m betraying my oath to your father,” said Impa, brow furrowed. “But… a true warrior knows when not to join a fight. I would only endanger you both. I will cover for this plan, but you must still hurry.”

“We will,” said Zelda. “Link, we—are you  _ sleeping?” _

_ “No,”  _ said Link, who had been resting her chin on her chest and lightly snoring.  _ “...Maybe.” _

“We can hurry in a few hours, surely,” said Zelda after a moment. “It’s clear that cursing them took it out of you.”

_ “Usually it’s easy,”  _ said Link tiredly, slipping away to find a spot to sleep. She was aiming for the horse stalls, oddly enough, but Zelda let her go. 

“Pri—Zelda.”

Zelda jumped a little, unused to hearing her true name from Impa. “Yes?”

“Wherever you go, Kakariko Village should be on the list of targets,” said Impa. “I know very little about our adversaries because the history is forbidden to all but the current matriarch. She will tell you what you need to know. Don’t forget your ally in Hateno Village either—my sister's research will be invaluable. And-“

“Impa, I’m not gone yet.”

“You’ll be leaving soon, and I’d sooner die than let you go without my advice.”

Impa’s tone was calm, but her eyes gave away conflict and what Zelda could only describe as fear. Fear for her. 

_ She means it.  _

“I won’t fail,” promised Zelda. 

Link slept like a rock for several hours, guarded by his horse and Impa, who was there because Zelda refused to leave. Actually, she left once—to check on the wounded guards and assure them all was well—but the rest of her time was spent getting her things together and planning. After much hesitation, Zelda tore a page from her notebook and wrote a short message to her father to be delivered after she had left.

Part of her wondered why Link, specifically, was the spirit she needed. The wilds were powerful—but why not a dragon?

_ It may be because she’s the only free spirit left,  _ thought Zelda grimly. She glanced down at the spirit given mortal form currently snoozing in the hay, examining the calloused hands and messy hair.  _ She looks truly mortal. What magic gave her that form, and what effects will it have on her powers if an “easy” curse knocks her out? _

Then Link’s eyes snapped open, briefly flashing green in the dim stable light.

“Well-rested?” Zelda asked.

_ “Sort of. Sleeping is still weird,”  _ said Link, squinting oddly.  _ “It’s ‘he’ again, by the way. Switched.” _

“Good to know. Are you ready?”

Zelda could not take her own horse for the sake of subtlety, so she chose to ride just behind Link on his horse (whose name turned out to be Epona). She barely kept balance, but turned around regardless to get one last look at Impa before leaving. 

_ “Good luck,”  _ said Impa in sign, knowing that Zelda would not hear through the distance. 

_ “Thank you.” _

—

“And we’re stopping so early on because…?”

_ “I need a destination and you need a horse,”  _ said Link simply, pointing to the stable up ahead. Zelda recognized it as the one at the base of the Great Plateau, which she had passed though only a few days before. Link led Epona closer without so much as a hand on her withers, walking rather than riding as they approached. 

Zelda flushed. “Ah. See, I’m not actually that good of a rider-“

_ “Epona likes you.” _

“Your horse is different,” insisted Zelda, awkwardly tugging on the end of her blue Hylian tunic. “She’s in the employ of—well,  _ you. _ Horses in general don’t like me.”

Epona snorted loudly as if disagreeing. Whether it was with Link or her current rider, Zelda wasn’t sure. “See? She understood what I said.”

_ “They always do,”  _ said Link, tilting his head.  _ “Mortals just tend not to notice.” _

“Somehow, you’re stranger now that you’re being open about the spirit thing,” said Zelda, hoping in no small part to redirect the conversation. 

It didn’t work. 

_ “I can get their attention, but one has to agree to carry you first,” _ said Link. He held out a hand and Zelda accepted it begrudgingly, pulling her hood up as she dismounted. If someone recognized her and word got out… 

But soon they were behind and beyond the stable, watching wild horses trot about in the hills. Link looked much better—gone were the bags under his eyes and the pale patches of skin. He stepped forward, gently tugging Zelda with him. 

“How do you call them?” she asked, curiosity overwhelming her apprehension. 

Link shrugged.  _ “They understand spirits. I just… talk.” _

Zelda heard nothing, but several of the horses in the distance apparently did. Their heads snapped up in almost perfect unison, staring directly at Link with beady eyes. 

“That’s… interesting,” said Zelda slowly, watching the herd trot up to examine them both. Epona whinnied from her place by the road, attracting a couple of the other mares who seemed to know her. “They really do seem to understand…”

A tap on her shoulder made Zelda turn her head back towards Link.  _ “I’ll tell you how it feels if you really try and get a horse. Deal?” _

Zelda didn’t even hesitate. “Deal.”

Link grinned and pushed her towards a light gray stallion.  _ “That one wants some adventure, but he’s not sure of you. Greet him.” _

“Okay…” 

Unsure of herself and the horse both, Zelda continued forward regardless and thrust her hand forward. Recalling that Link had said horses always understood, she said, “Hello.”

The horse backed away several steps and nickered.

“What am I doing wrong?” said Zelda, looking backwards at her companion. He was  _ grinning.  _

_ “You moved too fast.” _

So Zelda stepped forward slower, hand still extended, but the horse still stepped backwards to mirror her. “Ugh. Link, can’t you just  _ tell _ him to—Link!”

Link had slipped away in the two seconds it took Zelda to give up again, now relaxing astride a spotted black-and-white horse which affectionately nibbled at what clothing it could reach. Whatever he said was a little too far away to see clearly, but Zelda just  _ knew _ he was telling her to keep trying. 

“Alright, you,” she said to the horse. “I have an important mission, you know, and it’s got to do with that spirit you like so much. Let me on.”

But every time she moved towards the horse, he backed away. He kept turning his head so that she was looking right at one of his eyes—wait. 

_ I’ve been walking up in his blind spot. _

So Zelda moved to the side and approached from there, finally getting close enough to touch the horse. She recalled what the castle hostler had taught her—briefly—and gently reached for his nose. 

He moved away again, though just his head.

Zelda turned around to find Link and glare at him. He had trotted closer without her noticing and collected apples somewhere, one of which he tossed to Zelda. 

“Ah, food, of course,” she muttered, catching it. “Here, buddy.”

At last she had the horse’s full attention—and even though it was just for the treat, Zelda considered it a victory. She was finally able to pet his nose and get him to recognize she wasn’t a threat, but the next obstacle came when Zelda tried to mount up with Link’s encouragement. 

“Let—me—on!”

The horse danced around her once again, nickering in a way that sounded a lot like laughter.

“Link-!”

_ “Show him you’re not afraid,”  _ suggested Link, still lounging on the back of the black-and-white horse. 

“I’M NOT!” Zelda moved again, only to be thwarted by a quick sidestep. “Are you doing this?”

_ “I’m talking to him, yes,”  _ admitted Link. _ “The dodging is his own. He’s testing you to see how you handle it.” _

Zelda glared at him before stopping to breathe. Her current tactics, clearly, were the wrong thing to do—she’d never catch a horse at this rate, and she’d been trying for an hour already. So, instead of chasing the horse, she sat down in the field and started picking flowers to weave together.

The horse  _ whuffed _ at her almost indignantly, but Zelda did not look up. 

He trotted closer, nickering again, but Zelda merely selected a new flower to add to the chain.

He stepped closer-

“Ha!”

Zelda finally managed to sling herself onto his back, hanging onto his neck in anticipation of bucking that did not come. When she opened her eyes, the horse was looking between her and Link as if shocked. 

“Will you carry me, then?”

_ Whuff. _

“Does that mean yes?”

_ Whuff.  _

Link walked over, having let the black-and-white horse run off as it pleased.  _ “That would have gone much worse if I wasn’t here, but he knows you’re stubborn now. He’ll carry you.” _

“Good.”

After Zelda got her horse (newly named “Thunder”) registered, there was still the matter of their first destination to figure out. Zelda pulled a map from her bag and spread it out on a rock not too far from the stable, marking spots with her pencil while Link watched intently. 

“I have it on good authority that the dragons are holed up in or near their respective springs,” said Zelda, pointing to three locations across the map. “Everyone else is—or should be—where they are normally, locked in place by the… I don’t know what to call them.”

_ “Thorns.” _

“Good name. Unfortunately, they’re all quite far away, and we don’t know how much time we have,” continued Zelda, biting her lip. “Or what to do once we’re there. The Goddess told me to find you, it must be something only us two can do, and only together.”

Link pointed to a spot on the map—the Faron woods.  _ “We can find out here. Farosh is closest, if your source is right.” _

“We could be there by nightfall,” said Zelda, after doing some quick math in her head. “It’ll be dangerous, but… what choice is there?”

_ “Farosh it is,”  _ said Link, standing. Without any audible bidding, both of their horses trotted closer as Zelda rolled up the map.  _ “Shall we, princess?” _

“Let’s get going.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay on this one, but I got caught up writing LU fics and lost the motivation temporarily. But it’s back! Enjoy the slight filler

Link had long since met every single spirit in Hyrule—some accidentally, most at Satori’s “suggestion”—and most of them were at the very least not hostile. The dragons in particular tended to be aloof even to other spirits, and the less said about the Horse God, the better; but those who genuinely thought he was interesting quickly joined the list of his favorite haunts. The Deku Tree and his Koroks had been particularly… curious. 

—

_ “New spirit! New spirit! Can we play?” _

_ “I want to play hide-and-seek!” _

_ “No, Deku tag!” _

_ “Both! Come play!” _

_ The spirit almost regretted taking his ghostly semi-visible form around the little Koroks when they mobbed him, but their enthusiasm quickly became contagious. He chased them—or maybe they chased him—through the thick mists of the Lost Woods, which did not hinder the passage of spirits the way it did mortals. He did not quite recall the path they took, so winding it was—but at the end of it, the mists parted for a haven of light.  _

_ “Do you remember? You know, us,” said one little Korok, bouncing onto a branch near the spirit’s “face”. “Here? The forest?” _

_ The jingle of Korok laughter filled the forest and the inquisitive one was drowned out by their fellows as they danced about the spirit.  _

_ “Why would he?” _

_ “Yeah, why?” _

_ “This one’s different.” _

_ “Kinda, sorta.” _

_ “Okay, then what’s your name?” asked the inquisitive Korok, undeterred by their fellows. “We don’t know you!” _

_ “I have no name yet,” said the spirit, comforted by their use of the less powerful dialect of spirit speech. The Koroks were older, he knew, but young at heart—they would not bother with the more direct language most spirits used.  _

_ “Maybe Grandpa can give you one!” said a different voice from the bushes. That Korok never left shelter, but the others seemed impressed by the idea. _

_ “Grandpa named all of us!” said the inquisitive Korok excitedly, dancing down from the tree branch to toddle along the forest floor. “Like me—I’m Maca!” _

_ So the spirit curiously followed the Koroks through their forest, wondering what “Grandpa” looked like. He didn’t make the connection between “Grandpa” and the spirit he’d been sent to introduce himself to until the forest opened up into a clearing, at the other end of which was the largest tree the spirit had ever seen. _

_ “Hi, Grandpa!” said Maca cheerfully, echoed by the dozen Koroks shepherding the spirit. “Look who we found! New spirit!” _

_ “New friend!” _

_ “He likes to play like us!” _

_ “Is that so? Careful, now,” said “Grandpa”, speaking slowly and carefully in contrast with the high-pitched jabber of his Koroks. The long mustache-like branches at his mouth twitched upwards. “Try not to tire out your younger brethren, now. Little spirits need their rest.” _

_ The spirit decided it would be unwise to show any insult during his first introduction and bowed as he knew now to do. When he rose, he spoke. “Greetings, Great Deku Tree.” _

_ “I mean no disrespect, little spirit,” said the Deku Tree, picking up on his unease—some of which came from shock that such an old spirit deigned to speak aloud. The Koroks scattered to play with each other and eavesdrop on the conversation. “It has been quite some time since I met anyone new… tell me, what are you the spirit of?” _

_ “The wilds, and all who travel within them.” _

_ “That’s quite the footprint.” _

_ The spirit shrugged. “My domain isn’t much yet, even though it should be.” _

_ “Ah, I remember my early days,” reminisced the Deku Tree. “It helps that I was born with a physical form, like the Koroks, of course. You will have to rely entirely on mortals, little spirit. Did Satori send you?” _

_ The spirit nodded.  _

_ “Of course he did. Say,  _ you _ are a free-roaming spirit… do tell him I said hello next time you cross paths, hmm? Oh, and another thing… do you recall when you came into existence?” _

_ The spirit blinked and thought back. Unlike mortals, spirits could always remember the day of their birth—it merely took some unearthing. “Just after… the birth of these mortal species, I think. I gained genuine awareness more recently, before that massive battle a few mortal years ago. The mortals pushed back a dark spirit, right?” _

_ “Ah, the hero and the princess and their honored Champions,” said the Deku Tree. “I knew that hero. He spent much time here before he retired, and brought the princess before she became queen. Do you ever interact with either of them?” _

_ “I blessed the hero, I think. He passed through my domain often and respected it.” _

_ “You think?” echoed the tree. “Would you not remember, or was this before you gained proper awareness?” _

_ The spirit shrugged once more, a little embarrassed. “I bless a lot of mortals if I get the chance. Sometimes I lose track.” _

_ The Deku Tree actually chuckled. “You have a great deal of positive energy, it seems. That battle was not too long ago even for mortals—your power and domain will grow, if you continue to spread that energy. But… I do sense some darker power within you.” _

_ The spirit shifted. Satori had also sensed that, and rather loudly opposed it. “I curse those who cross the wrong lines. Those who beat animals especially.” _

_ “Those  _ are _ under your protection,” said the Deku Tree. “All spirits can curse. Always remember to curse only those who break laws relative to your own domain, and never put too much potency into your curses. Otherwise… that abundant positive energy within you may fade. Would you answer a few more questions for me?” _

_ “Ooh, ooh, or mine!” Maca bounced up from the edges of the clearing, waving a pinwheel.  _

_ “No, me!” _

_ “I wanna know more about the new spirit!” _

_ “ME FIRST!” _

_ The Deku Tree chuckled, watching his Koroks chase the spirit up a nearby stone pillar. “Mine can wait, I suppose. These little ones can be relentless, you see.” _

_ The spirit surrendered eventually and forgot the Deku Tree’s apprehension—though not his warning. Never his warning.  _

—

Link still wasn’t entirely sure what to think of the princess. She was stubborn, he knew that much, and undeniably clever (she was also bad with horses, but he could forgive that in a mortal if they really worked on it). She had a habit of chewing up the ends of her pencils while writing, something he’d witnessed often in the Gerudo capital. She liked exploration more than diplomacy and could somewhat handle a sword.

She also did  _ not _ forget promises made, and could be worse than a Korok when curious. 

“Describing it as ‘easy’ hardly helps me  _ visualize, _ you know. Has it always been a skill you’re good at, or was talking to horses something you had to work on? Do spirits even  _ need _ to work on skills?”

Link shared a glance with Thunder, who was quite patient for a horse with such tangible energy running through him. He kept a steady pace while Zelda wrote in the saddle.  _ “No, I could always talk to animals. Doing it right took practice. Learning how to speak like a proper spirit took time too.” _

Zelda stopped scribbling down notes long enough to blink at him. “Like a proper spirit? Do you mean… aloud?”

_ “The signing is unique to me, so no,”  _ said Link, giving up and letting Epona take the lead. He’d rather focus entirely on the conversation.  _ “There are two spirit languages. One is spoken by younger or less powerful entities because it’s easier to use, and the other is for older spirits.” _

“What’s the difference besides their usage?”

_ “The feeling. The younger one is more…”  _ Link trailed off. He’d never actually had to explain any of this before.  _ “Tangible. Mortals can hear it without any significant power of their own, unlike the older dialect.” _

“And you use the older one?”

_ “Now I do. The younger one I still use sometimes, around the Blupees or the Koroks, or if I’m trying to scare off some mortal, but that’s not too often.” _

Link expected to get a laugh for that, and Zelda  _ did _ chuckle—but she seemed distracted otherwise as they made their way towards the Bridge of Hylia in the distance. “So, this morning, you used the older one… interesting. And animals understand that?”

Link nodded. 

“Hm. But other mortals…” Zelda trailed off and shook her head. “Never mind. We’re coming up on more people anyway, we should stow the spirit talk.”

They’d gotten some odd looks while passing by the entrance to the Great Plateau already, so Link agreed without complaint—even if he did eye the back of her cloaked head suspiciously. Zelda took point (or rather, Thunder trotted ahead and his rider didn’t stop him). Link let her, taking time to muse on the situation and letting Epona do the crowd-navigating. 

_ Back in the desert, she said she heard my curse,  _ he told Epona, who snorted as if reprimanding him (she hadn’t been happy when he came back smelling of blood and looking like death warmed over).  _ How? Mortals can’t hear that language.  _

Epona whuffed again.  _ Figure it out for yourself,  _ she seemed to say.  _ Solving mysteries is  _ your _ job.  _

As the crowds of passerby started to get thicker and he and Zelda edged into the lane for riders across the bridge, Link got an idea. He glanced around for small animals and found a lone sparrow doing loop-the-loops just over the edge of the bridge. 

_ Come say hello,  _ he broadcasted, “loud” enough to make every nearby horse’s ears flick up. The sparrow screeched to a halt mid-loop and dive-bombed Link’s outstretched hand, alighting on his finger with a curious chirp. 

“Link, catching birds draws attention,” hissed Zelda, who had glanced backwards to find out what nearby people were staring at. She didn’t seem to have heard him speak and turned back without further speech. 

_ Sorry, friend, just testing something,  _ Link told the sparrow. The little bird hopped until she faced Zelda, glancing backwards once as if questioning.  _ Yes, her. You sense something, don’t you? _

The sparrow chirped and hopped down to the pommel of Link’s saddle, happy to ride along for the time being. 

_ How else should I try this?  _ he asked Epona, who briefly flicked her ears at him.  _ You’re right. I should start small.  _

The shift between spirit languages was slightly different than the way mortals switched between whatever languages they knew. Instead of calling to mind a different alphabet and vocabulary, one had to use a different mindset—there was a reason most powerful spirits used the older dialect exclusively. It took concentration to change. 

Soon, without signing, Link spoke once more.  _ “If you can hear me, respond.” _

Three more sparrows almost seemed to teleport to his side, chirping irritably at the spirit who dared disturb their hunt for bugs. A Hightail Lizard skittered along the edge of the bridge and made a flying leap, clinging to Link’s pants and clambering up onto his lap. The other horses on the bridge angled their heads to check the source of the voice, some of them whinnying and startling their riders. 

Zelda’s shoulders twitched.

_ “See, there she goes,”  _ said Link to the sparrow who had chosen to ride on his saddle.  _ “She  _ does _ hear something…” _

“Link, we might… we might need to move faster,” said Zelda nervously, her lips hardly moving when she looked back. Impa must have taught her that. 

_ “Why?”  _ Link signed.

“I—well—something feels strange. Not like it does around  _ them _ , but better safe than sorry, you know?”

_ I scared her,  _ Link realized guiltily. Epona twisted her head around to bite his sleeve, this time less than affectionately.  _ “I know, I should have thought that through, my bad. Happy?” _

_ Whuff.  _

_ “That’s what I thought.” _

In the end they made it to the end of the bridge with little incident beyond that and continued on the road into Faron Woods, which was notably deserted. Link saw storm clouds hovering in the distance, highlighted by the afternoon sun and the occasional flash of visible lightning within their bellies. They seemed oddly low for storm clouds. 

_ “Lightning isn’t normally purple, right? Unless mortal bodies have different color vision,”  _ he said to Epona. She huffed, clearly still annoyed.  _ “I get it, I’ll ask the princess—and I’ll apologize. I was going to!” _

Then the wilds hummed and Link twisted, scaring off the sparrow and lizard that still clung to him to bring a hand to his borrowed Gerudo sword. Zelda stopped her horse completely, noting his reaction when a Hylian man going the opposite direction as them walked by and slowed enough to talk. 

“Hey, y’all tourists or something?” he said, unperturbed by the obvious weapons. “You should know, there’s somethin’ unpleasant in those woods. People keep going in and comin’ back covered in lightning scars.”

“We’ll take that into consideration,” said Zelda after a moment, visibly relaxing—though still tense. It took Link a moment to realize that he got no sense of the  _ wrongness _ of the assassins from the man, who tipped his hat politely and continued on his way. Link nudged Epona into a light trot beside Thunder and they kept moving towards the distant storm clouds without any further encounters. 

_ There’s hardly even birds around,  _ he mused, glancing at the trees. The wilds hummed in agreement.  _ That never bodes well.  _

“There’s a good spot to leave the horses not too far from the Spring of Courage,” said Zelda at some point. “We might have to make a camp there too, since it’s getting darker. I don’t fancy walking into a magical storm at night.”

Link blanched and nodded assent. The night held few dangers for him normally, but in a mortal body nearby a defensive and hurt dragon… he’d take daylight over nighttime in a heartbeat, even if it took more time. 

_ The dragons have already fallen prey,  _ Satori had said. Did that make them enemies?

“Some reaction. Have you met Farosh?”

_ “A couple of times,”  _ said Link in sign.  _ “They—or he, whichever—tend to be the friendliest to me out of the three dragons. They don’t speak much, but they do laugh when I play tricks. I think.” _

“Let me get this straight,” said Zelda. “You have an affinity for most weapons, especially swords. You’re friends with the spirit in service of the Spring of Courage. You took on the form of a blond Hylian with blue eyes and you named yourself  _ Link.  _ That’s all a coincidence?”

_ “I have a strange sense of humor.” _

“I’ll say.”

Link got distracted by a few playful chickadees deciding that he made a good roost moments later, which effectively stopped further conversation for several more minutes. Zelda giggled watching him silently argue with them, but her movements were slow. Stilted. She had something to say, clearly. 

“Are you scared?” she asked eventually. 

Link paused in the process of trying to shoo a chickadee off of Epona’s mane.  _ “Of what, specifically? Farosh?” _

“I suppose.”

Link bit his lip.  _ “The dragons are much older and more powerful than me. I spoke with Satori before we joined forces and he said that they had already been corrupted by the… dark magic. That likely means we have dragons for enemies. So, to answer your question… a little.” _

Zelda hummed at the back of her throat, contemplating. “Did the Lord of the Mountain tell you anything else about the situation?”

_ “Only that he suspects the goal is to destroy or otherwise corrupt our domains. He’s currently hiding himself and the Blupees for that reason.”  _ Link did not mention that Satori had also suspected the royal family of being involved. Zelda was working too hard to be a part of it, but King Rhoam… Link wanted to wait until he had a better measure of the family dynamics going on before he brought it up. 

“I have a friend investigating all of this who says that the spirits seem to actively be hiding,” said Zelda. “She mentioned that Satori Mountain appeared to have been abandoned…?”

_ “He’s faking.” _

“Good. I feared the worst,” said Zelda. “The Great Fairies and Horse God can’t be reached by normal means, and the dragons have… been corrupted, but what do you know of the Deku Tree’s defenses? Will the Lost Woods hold?”

_ “They never stopped me,”  _ said Link wryly.  _ “But against mortals and mortal magic, they’re a solid defense. The Deku Tree and his Koroks should be safe.” _

“Then we should focus on getting to the dragons,” said Zelda. Suddenly, she stopped, her brow creased. “Wait, you said Satori thinks your  _ domains _ are the target?”

_ “Yes.” _

“Not you spirits specifically?” Zelda frowned deeper, twisting a lock of hair around her finger. “The thorns injure you, but they haven’t closed in on the Great Fairies, either. The dragons are merely corrupted, not dead—and I’d  _ know _ if they were dead, even if I can’t hear the Goddess—so why bother? Why bother merely keeping Hyrule’s spirits in one spot and tainting their energies? Surely the fastest way to destroy a spirit is to destroy their domain.”

_ “Not quite,”  _ said Link—slowly. He would trust the princess this far, at least.  _ “The only way to truly kill a spirit is to kill our belief. Physical forms are temporary. Domains can change. Those won’t kill us.” _

“Your… belief? If you lose hope, you die?”

_ “No. Our followings,”  _ explained Link. He frowned, trying to think of how Satori had explained it so long ago—and how he could sound less pedantic than the Lord of the Mountain had.  _ “Do you know where spirits get power from?” _

“I had assumed age and knowledge,” said Zelda, “but you seem to know better.”

_ “Partially. But the only reason we even exist is mortals like you,”  _ said Link.  _ “Actually, bad example. You’re descended from a deity.” _

Zelda snorted.

_ “Okay, okay. I’ve never had to explain before, you know,”  _ said Link.  _ “If I were stabbed right now and bled out-“ _

“Cheery.”

_ “Let me finish. If my physical form stopped functioning, my soul would be fine. I wouldn’t even lose my powers. Guess why.” _

“Because… mortals still believe in you?” Zelda guessed.

_ “Correct. Ultimately, the domains we guard belong to mortals in some way,”  _ said Link.  _ “Spirits have to make a physical form, but mortals are just born with one. You’re born to inhabit this world. You hold power over it, and by extension, us.” _

“A symbiotic relationship,” said Zelda, her eyes sparking. “You guard us, and we give you… what, stories? Belief?”

_ “And rupees, if you’re a Great Fairy.” _

Zelda snorted. “True.”

_ “By cutting off the other spirits from mortals, our enemies are already putting a dent in their followings,”  _ said Link.  _ “I’ve even run into it with my own following. That might be why my cursing took so much out of me.” _

“That’s worrying. They’re aiming to weaken you, corrupt your domains… but why?” said Zelda. “What could they gain from making people stop believing in you if they seem to wish to keep you alive?”

_ “I guard the wilds and the mortals who pass through them,”  _ said Link, gesturing to the encroaching jungle around them.  _ “I started out as more of a general protective spirit until some mortal wrote a book calling me a nature spirit. It became a bestseller and now I can grow plants. See the power of belief?” _

“Belief certainly changes a lot of things, and not just spirit affairs,” said Zelda, nodding sagely. She fingered the back of her right hand in a practiced manner. “Do goddesses work that way?”

_ “I’ve never spoken to Hylia,”  _ said Link regretfully.  _ “Farore, yes, but that was pure chance and only once. I don’t know.” _

Zelda looked down and away, avoiding eye contact. Seemingly the conversation was over—and good timing, too, because the sky decided to open up on them not long later. Words were traded for a quick hunt for shelter, eventually found in a small, rocky overhang that acted as a natural lean-to. 

“This… isn’t ideal,” said Zelda eventually. The crash of thunder above once again nearly drowned out her words, and the torrential rain hardly helped, but Link heard her anyway. “I’d suggest we just sign, but…”

She gestured to the rapidly darkening surroundings somewhat helplessly, indicating the poor lighting conditions. “I doubt there’s so much as a dry twig around here, so no fire. This’ll be an  _ interesting _ night.”

Link checked with the wilds for nearby animals and found very few—five foxes recently ousted from a now-collapsed den, a lost wild boar, and half a dozen birds—and called to them all without thought. He’d forgotten to switch languages again.

Zelda twitched, warily glaring at the dark forest around them.

Link tapped her on the shoulder to ensure she was looking.  _ “What you heard earlier, on the bridge, and just now. That was me. No danger.” _

She squinted a little in the dimming light, but seemed to get the message. When a crash of thunder cut off her voice again, she frowned deeper and switched to utilitarian sign.  _ “The voice? The… pressure?” _

_ “I was testing the waters. I should have mentioned something, and I’m sorry I didn’t. Did you think I was them?” _

It was a long moment before Zelda responded.  _ “I heard them. In the desert, both times I heard their voices loud and clear. You’re forgiven.” _

Link swallowed, but before their conversation could continue, the animals he’d called to showed up for shelter. Zelda yelped when one of the fox cubs leapt right over her folded legs to reach a dry corner of the overhang and went completely still when the boar showed up, even though he merely snorted in greeting and curled up as far from the other residents of the overhang as he could. The birds simply landed on the horses’ saddles, shaking off rainwater. 

_ “They’re harmless,”  _ Link assured her.  _ “They just want shelter, same as us.” _

But soon it was too dark for signing and still too loud for speech, for even as the thunder faded away the rain still continued. The sun had set. The animals, at least, were fine—even if the horses felt a bit cramped, they still stayed quiet. 

Link got tired of watching darkness after a while and reached out to his right, looking for Zelda. He found her shoulder by touch and noted the shivering she tried to hide. The chill hardly bothered him, but he’d entirely forgotten what it would do to a regular mortal—especially one who had fallen asleep sitting up after getting caught in the rain. 

_ “Would you mind doing a favor?”  _ he asked the foxes, a plan forming in his mind. 

—

Zelda woke up with three things: still-damp socks, a crick in her neck the size of Hyrule Castle, and a lap full of snoozing fur. 

Oh, and a certain blue-eyed spirit watching the hazy rainfall with a wild boar in his lap next to her. At least the storm had abated somewhat. 

“Link, was this your doing?” she hissed, careful not to disturb the sleeping foxes draped over her outstretched legs and torso. At some point during the night,  _ someone _ had balled up her cloak and made sure she slept on her back instead of against the cave wall. As cute as the foxes were, they were still refusing to budge in their sleep at all, keeping her pinned. 

_ “Maybe,”  _ he signed, with some difficulty owing to the boar.  _ “You were shivering.” _

Zelda had to admit that the foxes  _ were _ keeping her warm. “I  _ do _ have a spare cloak that shouldn’t have gotten wet, you know. But… thank you.”

Link shrugged—was that guilt in his eyes?  _ “Least I could do.” _

“Could you… tell them to move, please?” Zelda wasn’t sure she could get away with keeping all her fingers if she tried to budge the snoozing foxes. 

Almost instantly, the mother fox sat up and stared at Link with piercing eyes. Without protest, she picked up one of her kits by the scruff of its neck and set about removing all four of them from Zelda. One yipped in protest only to be silenced by a stern look from its mother. 

_ That’s a universal sort of glare,  _ Zelda thought, snickering a little despite herself. She stood up and instantly regretted it when her spine protested. “Ow. That’s the last time I go to sleep on nothing but solid rock… did you get enough rest?”

_ “I don’t usually need it unless I’m injured. I’m alright.” _

“Duly noted.” Zelda stuck one hand out into the storm, finding the rain almost unpleasantly warm. “This isn’t a normal storm—there’ll be no waiting this out. We just have to go straight in.”

Link sighed and ruefully unhooked his sword from his belt.  _ “Metal will be a hazard. My bow’s wooden, at least.” _

“Ugh, I forgot. We’ll need to be careful.”

Zelda noticed her mouth getting dry despite the humid air. Her hands shook, too, when she readjusted her spare cloak and double-checked her boots. It took her a moment to pin down the fear rapidly encroaching on her mind—surely, with so skilled a fighter as the literal spirit of traveling warriors, she should be fine. 

_ But even Link was scared of facing Farosh without the advantage.  _

“Will the horses be alright staying here?” she asked instead of voicing the thought. 

Link patted Epona’s neck.  _ “They’d prefer it. Besides, we have a little climbing to do.” _

“Right.”

_ “And then we waltz up to a dragon.” _

“Right.”

_ “A dragon currently under the influence of dark magic.” _

“Sounds… correct.”

_ “I hate to ask, but do we actually have a plan? I never have one, but I figured you might think differently.” _

Zelda sighed. “No, not much of one. I suppose I was just hoping we’d… figure it out on the way?”

Link shared a glance with his horse, a habit that was getting old quickly. 

“Look, I’m operating on next to no guidance here,” said Zelda defensively. “The Goddess told me to find you—done. Now I’m on the next step. A single, cryptic sentence isn’t much to go on.”

_ “I know,”  _ said Link, raising his hands placatingly before continuing, “ _ at least you had that much. I got punted out of spirit form into this body without warning. Plan?” _

Zelda chose to let him be a little snippy. Link knew what dragons were capable of up-close—she didn’t, so thinking would have to occur before responding. “Reconnaissance first. We need to  _ find _ Farosh before we can fix him.”

Link relaxed just slightly.  _ “Good plan. I think I know the way.” _

“Oh?”

_ “Eye of the storm.” _

Zelda eyed the rain and steeled herself. “Alright, no time like the present. Let’s get moving—I know how to find the spring from here.”

Five minutes later, Zelda was almost jealous of the horses. Mud she could handle, but  _ wet socks  _ were a torture invented by demons—and the less said about Link’s supernatural unbothered-ness, the better. The rain made climbing over the several small cliffs extremely difficult, the thunder made conversation near nonexistent, and the dreadful purple lightning struck the ground next to them  _ entirely  _ too close for comfort several times.

_ Purple. Farosh’s lightning should be green and gold, not purple—that’s a bad sign.  _

Thick jungle trees eventually began to give way to cracked stone monuments and crumbling pathways, relics of a long-gone past. Link stopped beside one statue after helping Zelda over a fallen log, staring intently into the eyes of the sculpted dragon. Was it a good likeness, perhaps? It would be funny if he was just an art enthusiast. 

_ Wait, I’m an idiot. He’s been around for thousands of years,  _ realized Zelda.  _ He was probably around when these were carved, before the Zonai disappeared from history—oh, what I wouldn’t do to properly question him!  _

She shook herself out of it.  _ Getting distracted on a quest—honestly! Focus, Zelda.  _

The distraction, however inadvisable, was still preferable to thinking about the cause of each bruised purple lightning bolt. Zelda could swear she heard whispers through the rain, almost like… almost like  _ them.  _

But it wasn’t, surely. These whispers sounded like the wheezing of someone who’d been winded heavily, someone desperately trying to get their breath back. The corrupted Sheikah didn’t sound so pained. 

Zelda squinted through the rain as Link cautiously checked behind a Zonai statue and signaled that it was safe to follow. Even when a whisper echoed particularly loud, his ears didn’t so much as twitch. Could he not hear it?

But Zelda could hardly hear herself _ think, _ and deciphering sign through the downpour would take too much time, so she filed away the question for later. Something else was quite ready to occupy her attention when she cleared the statue. Link suddenly tugged her wrist hard enough to make Zelda topple to the ground, shushing her with a look and hunkering down against a tree trunk for cover. Zelda hesitantly poked her face around the trunk, conscious of the caution even the spirit of the wilds was exhibiting. 

The Spring of Courage was somewhere Zelda rarely visited, the last time being at age five with her mother (a trip she mostly slept through, tired by the long journey to get there). Her vague memories painted it as humid and full of plant and animal life, surrounded by fascinating Zonai ruins and housing a tranquil Goddess statue within its massive dragon sculpture. 

Its current state was a far cry from the serene diorama in Zelda’s memory. 

Half a dozen Lizalfos had taken over the plaza, scattering crude metalworking stations and various bits of meat and garbage around the holy stones. Lightning strikes had destroyed the western end of the ruins completely and scarred the stone elsewhere, leaving spots of inky black that seemed to push Zelda’s gaze away. The whispers grew louder as she raised her eyes, staring in disbelief at the centerpiece of the destruction. 

“Farosh,” she whispered unconsciously, transfixed. 

_ Help,  _ said the whispers, the only clear word Zelda could make out. 

The dragon of lighting, servant of the Spring of Courage, was a sorry sight as he curled over the top of the statue in his likeness. Formerly green and gold scales were now sickly red and silver, and the once-vibrant electricity arcing around him had turned the same bruised purple as the lightning which had nearly taken Link and Zelda out of the game so many times. Farosh huffed weakly, occasionally letting a showed of sparks drop sadly from his mouth. Worst of all, there seemed to be some sort of parasite clinging to his back—black-and-purple goo not unlike the thorns around the Great Fairies, except this goo had ugly yellow  _ eyes  _ sticking out of it. 

Link gently pulled Zelda back behind the tree trunk and gave her a look that said without words,  _ what now? _

“I don’t know,” said Zelda just as a crash of thunder decided to cut off her words. Instead, she leaned over and pointed to the Lizalfos below, making a questioning face. Could he do something about them? 

Link studied their positioning, eyes flicking from the sleeping monsters to the two sentries. He ran a hand along his quiver, then removed it. He could do little, it seemed—but then why was he closing his eyes?

_ “...to me…” _

Zelda stiffened, “hearing” him once more.  _ Who is he calling? _

Suddenly Link’s eyes snapped open and he shot to his feet, motioning for Zelda to crouch down as he leapt straight up and climbed into the trees. Something was up—even as Link made it from tree to tree, Farosh let out a pained roar and a flurry of lightning filled the air. Lizalfos screeches were the next sounds to rend the air, and quite suddenly, Zelda understood what Link had done. Mortals—especially animals—could hear the “younger” spirit language. 

_ I heard him. And Lizalfos are mortal.  _

Link waved to her from one tree over and pointed towards Farosh. Then he disappeared around the edges of the spring, taunting the Lizalfos below by throwing branches at their heads and disappeared before their arrows could strike. Zelda watched the monsters hiss and screech and finally all give in to chasing him, leaving the plaza—the space just before Farosh’s weakly panting head—completely unguarded. 

Link expected her to do something, clearly, otherwise he wouldn’t be playing bait. Zelda scrambled out from behind the tree and slid down into the plaza carefully, covering her face when lightning struck right next to her. Normal lightning would have been blinding—but the corrupted blasts from Farosh were the antithesis of normal lighting and “flashed” darkly. Somehow, Zelda knew that too much exposure would  _ not  _ be beneficial in the long run. 

“Farosh?” she tried, stepping into the center of the plaza just before the ailing dragon. Farosh’s eyes twitched and briefly focused on her before trailing back down to the flagstones. His horn flashed weakly and lowered towards her in a clear offering. 

Zelda hesitated, but the sound of Lizalfos screeches galvanized her. She reached out, brushing her fingers along the alien surface and shivering at the conflicting sense of powerful natural magic and the  _ wrongness  _ of the enemy. The whispers became more insistent, louder, thundering in the back of Zelda’s mind worse than any storm-

**_GODDESS-CHILD._ **

The voice was beyond loud, like trying to decipher words from thunderheads or standing within a temple bell at noon. Zelda cried out when it resounded, not just from her own pain but from the font of suffering that spilled from her connection to the dragon. Still, she hung on, intent to hear what Farosh had to say. 

**_COULD I KNEEL AND BEG, I WOULD. HELP US._ **

Through the haze of burning nerve endings, Zelda saw the back of her right hand flash weakly in time with the pulsing of Farosh’s horn. 

**_WE WILL BE OVERWHELMED WHEN—_ **

But Zelda could no longer hear him over the ringing in her own ears and the pounding over her own heart, though she knew Farosh was still speaking. “Please! I don’t understand, speak quieter!”

Farosh’s head stuttered, nearly breaking the connection.  **_SEAL IT. SEAL IT. SEAL IT!_ **

Suddenly he bellowed in pain, throwing Zelda backwards with a flash of bruised lightning. The thing on his back had pulsed, glowing purple, and it seemed to be  _ burning  _ the lightning spirit. 

**_GO!_ ** cried Farosh, his head whipping from side to side. 

Zelda needed no further prompting. She sprinted for the cover of the forest, hauling herself upwards over crumbling stone and leaving Farosh and his pleas for help behind. But where was Link?

As if he’d heard her silent question, Link came slipping and sliding through the mud and dead leaves with a slightly terrifying grin on his face. Angry Lizalfos screeches echoed behind him, but he seemed to have lost them in the weather. His grin dropped when he saw Zelda’s distraught face and glanced towards the still-thrashing Farosh, however, and he seemed to come to the same conclusion as Zelda—they had to leave. 

So Link held out his hand and they ran together through the jungle, escaping the storm in record time amidst a flurry of rain and pained roars. Zelda could only hope that the rain concealed her tears. 

—

Link had actually been having a bit of fun distracting the Lizalfos. They were clever creatures normally, if a bit aggressive, but they were just as affected by the dark magic as spirits were and easy to goad as a result. He’d taken Farosh’s bellow as a sign to return and help Zelda, but whatever she’d found while he was gone… 

“Are you okay?” Zelda asked, after they’d sat in silence under the overhang for some time. 

_ “I’m alright. You?” _

Zelda shivered, rubbing her temples. “His voice…”

Link frowned.  _ “Voice?’ _

“You didn’t hear Farosh speaking? I heard whispers, and some words, but I thought perhaps you could understand all of it…”

Link thought about it. He had been too overwhelmed by the dark magic—but then again, Zelda had outright heard voices he only vaguely sensed before. It was possible.  _ “I heard no words. Your ears may be better than mine.” _

Zelda started twisting her fingers together, clearly thinking hard. Link chose to check on the horses while she did so, letting her take the time to theorize—he certainly didn’t have any ideas. Seeing Farosh in that sorry state had shaken Link to the core, worse than the first time he’d met the golden spirit. 

—

_ The spirit drifted about lazily, hopping from tree to tree around the chilly lake. They had been reassured that Farosh popped up in this secluded spot just as often as he did over Lake Hylia, but they had entirely forgotten what time he did so, and therefore was stuck waiting for the dragon. Farosh would be the first dragon the spirit actually got close to—they tended to be out of reach, but there was a small window in their circuits which allowed for the Servants of the Sacred Springs to halt progress and perhaps chat.  _

_ Hopefully, anyway.  _

_ The spirit had just settled down to try and make grass whistles when the wind picked up unnaturally. The spirit leapt up from the ground, assuming an extremely hazy approximation of a physical form, and watched in awe as the tip of a glittery green horn emerged from the lake. Soon to follow was the scaly head of Farosh, green, gold, and shaking out his mane as he rumbled his arrival to the sky.  _

_ The spirit steeled themself and prayed that they would get the older dialect right. FAROSH! they cried, just slightly too loud. HAVE YOU A MOMENT? _

_ The dragon cocked his head to one side at the clumsy speech and changed course, twisting to bring the rest of his body out of the lake and into a lazy circuit around the lake. Had any mortals been nearby, it would have been quite the sight—a dragon hypnotically circling about an unseen presence like a curious cat. _

A… new… spirit… _ Farosh rumbled, his “voice” like the ringing of massive bells in the spirit’s mind.  _

_ I CAME TO SAY HELLO, said the spirit, their “ears” ringing heavily. They could not distinguish the dragon’s next words, but Farosh seemed content. A crackle of green lightning sprouted at the base of his horn, dancing up and down as the dragon circled.  _

_ Around and around and around Farosh went, his violet eyes never leaving the faint blue haze of the spirit, his claws forever cutting through the air. The electricity on his horn continued to dance, its light hypnotic, transfixing the spirit as it cracked brighter and brighter- _

_ Crack-BOOM! _

_ The spirit reeled backwards as lightning arced towards them, splitting just before it struck their form and dancing around them in a whirl of green and gold sparks. The lightning did not hurt—far from it, the spirit actually felt revitalized by the rush of power around them. Farosh, seemingly pleased, spoke what might have been a goodbye and reared into the sky to continue his circuit about the southeastern portion of Hyrule. The spirit remained, their poor attempt at a physical form completely dissolved by Farosh’s show of power.  _

_ The spirit gathered themself as well as they could and stared after the departing dragon in awe and terror, wondering what that show had been about. Intimidation? A poor joke? An attempt at saying hello? _

_ The spirit resolved to ask Satori later and left, slightly shaken and with a healthy respect for Farosh.  _

—

“That’s it! I think I got it!”

Link jerked out of his reverie, turning towards Zelda in unison with the horses. Despite the hair that clung to her face like Octorock tentacles and the muddy state of her clothes, she looked positively ecstatic.

_ “Got what?”  _ Link asked. 

“I know why you’ve been set to travel with me,” she said, eyes gleaming in a way Link had quickly learned to associate with her investigative mood. “We know that I hear the actual  _ voices  _ of our enemies—and corrupted spirits. I don’t understand all of it, but I do hear them, which you don’t. I don’t know why I can hear words, either, but…”

_ “My purpose here?”  _ Link prompted, curious. 

“Teach me the spirit languages,” said Zelda, opening her hands imploringly. “I need to know what the spirits have to say, and what our enemies intend. If I’m the only one who hears their words… I should be able to relay them properly, right? You’re a free-roaming spirit—an  _ ambassador _ spirit. That’s got to be part of it, at least.”

Link raised his hands. Lowered them. What would he do? It was unheard of for mortals to actively learn and speak spirit languages. 

Then again… dark magic that corrupted spirits and even waylaid dragons was also unheard of. 

_ “I’ll do it,”  _ said Link.  _ “But you’ll need more help than just me. I didn’t learn how to communicate just by being born.” _

Zelda cocked her head to one side. “Oh? Then who taught you?”

_ “Satori, mostly, but he’s unavailable. We need someone else. A spirit who isn’t using all their power to hide right now, and who knows a lot about Hyrule’s history,”  _ said Link, being dramatic for the sake of lightening the mood. 

“Who—oh!” Zelda cut herself off, the gears in her mind practically visible. “You mean…?”

_ “I hope you’re up for meeting the Great Deku Tree on this trip, princess. He’ll definitely have something to say.” _


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah that uh. That took longer than expected for me to update, huh? My bad ENTIRELY, but hopefully an almost 10k chapter makes up for it.

Zelda could have sworn her very bones were vibrating with excitement, tempered though it was by the painful encounter with Farosh. Though she could hardly be called a linguist, the uniqueness of her opportunity could not be ignored. A chance to learn  _ directly  _ from a spirit? To do something few—if any—mortals  _ ever  _ did? It wasn’t just a dream come true for Zelda. It would have been a dream come true for her mother, too. 

—

_ Zelda the younger snuck carefully into her mother’s study, keeping an eye out for any guards who would return her to her minders as she went. The back of her mother’s head was haloed by sunlight from a high-placed window, perfectly placed so that the little princess would be out of sight until the right moment.  _

_ “...but the sword—no, he has it. Logically, the hero should be close to Farosh…” _

_ The queen stood, blind and deaf to her daughter’s entrance, and held up a hand-drawn map to the light. Zelda the Younger could make out the shape of a forest in one corner, brighter than the rest of the map and marked with a distinctive squiggly green line, but also brightly-colored dots marked with tiny names.  _

_ “But where is the sword’s wielder?” _

_ Zelda the younger never tired of watching her mother’s drawings, but she had spent quite a lot of time evading her minders just to see the queen, so she chose to reveal herself. “What sword, Mama?” _

_ The queen jumped slightly, folding the map so fast it seemed to flash in the sunlight as she stood and whipped around. “Oh, Little Bird, how did you get up here?” _

_ “Impa’s teaching me how to be sneaky. She says I’m good, but  _ her _ mama says we need work…” _

_ The queen chuckled, scooping up her daughter as if she weighed nothing. “Lady Nikala is usually right about such things, but you’re only five and Impa is only eight. You’ll both get better in time, I’m sure.” _

_ Zelda the younger pursed her lips, unsure. “Okay. But what sword, Mama?” _

_ The queen’s smile went static then—a mask. “Well…” _

_ “I can keep a secret!” _

_ The queen was silent for some time, thinking. “I suppose it is relevant to you. But you mustn’t even tell your father, understand? This is for we descendants of the Goddess. A special secret.” _

_ Zelda the younger mimed locking her lips shut, which seemed to satisfy the queen.  _

_ “I’m studying spirits, you see,” said the queen, sitting Zelda down on the edge of the desk and showing her the map. It was gorgeous, as everything the queen drew was—elegant lines, simple, striking colors, and slightly messy handwriting which still drew the eye regardless. The names turned out to be the names of people Zelda the younger did not recognize, many of which were crossed-out, and all of which were relatively close to the Faron region. “The Deku Tree is a very special spirit, and he guards a special sword which needs a wielder. I’m simply seeing if I can do him a favor.” _

_ “What does talking to a spirit like him feel like?” _

_ “He talks out loud, so not too different from talking to you,” said the queen, tapping her daughter’s nose teasingly. “I’ve never properly spoken with the other spirits I’ve met, though… I’ve communicated, in a way, but never heard their words.” _

_ “Why not?” asked Zelda the younger, tilting her head to one side inquisitively.  _

_ “Mortals like you and I don’t speak their language, and I’ve no one to teach me,” explained the queen. “Perhaps… one day.” _

_ “I hope you learn, Mama,” said Zelda earnestly. “Then you can teach me!” _

_ The queen chuckled and affectionately patted her daughter’s cheek. “Perhaps one day  _ you  _ will teach  _ me.”

—

_ I hope you can see me, Mama. Wherever your soul is…  _

They had to start moving—the Deku Tree wasn’t getting any closer from his domain on the opposite end of the continent—so lessons would have to wait until Link and Zelda were properly on the road. 

Thunder, unfortunately, did not  _ want  _ to be properly on the road. 

“Do you  _ mind,  _ my friend?” said Zelda tersely, after the third time she’d gone to put on the saddle only to find the horse was puffing out his barrel  _ again.  _ The first time had resulted in Zelda falling right off the saddle and earning what was  _ definitely  _ an amused grin from Link, the second was insult to injury, and now she was sorely regretting her choice of horse. 

Epona nickered, perhaps telling off her fellow horse. Thunder suddenly became fascinated with a nearby clump of grass, ignoring her. 

“Link, can you  _ please  _ tell him to stop?”

_ “He’s being stubborn on purpose,”  _ said Link after a moment, making an apologetic face from his unfairly comfortable-looking spot in Epona’s saddle.  _ “I can only communicate, not order around, you know.” _

“You’re telling me this horse is stubborn enough to ignore the literal spirit of the wilds?”

Thunder chose that moment to tug away from Zelda and go munch on more grass to his heart’s content—in the  _ opposite  _ direction they were trying to travel. 

“Never mind. I believe you.”

It took a ridiculous  _ fifteen minutes  _ of Thunder sidestepping Zelda, walking in circles when she tried to get a foot in the stirrup, and outright refusing to take a step until fed multiple apples for all of them to finally move forward. After all of that, it was safe to say that Zelda was feeling less than up to starting any lessons—but Link had other ideas.

When Zelda wouldn’t stop grumbling under her breath and staring at the ground with a furrowed brow, Link waved up a hand to get her attention.  _ “Two things. One, they/them at the moment. I switched again. Two, focus on how you  _ already _ heard spirit-talk—that will make it easier to know what you need for the Deku Tree.” _

The sign for “Deku Tree” had always been a little odd to Zelda—instead of merely a modified version of “tree” like one might think, it was more along the lines of “elder (or eldest) guardian”, which had slightly confused her ever since learning—but she was more hung up on Link’s actual words than choice of such. “Are you so certain you won’t be able to teach me?

Link chewed their lip momentarily.  _ “I am… not good at words, in any way, shape, or form. I can’t explain the more intricate details. That, and…”  _

Zelda saw something in Link’s eyes that she’d only seen rarely up until now—hesitation. It had been there before telling her about the secret to killing spirits through their domains, before agreeing to help her learn their languages. 

“You don’t have to explain right now,” she offered. 

_ “No, I do. You need a magic I don’t have.” _

Zelda blinked, surprised. Link had seemed like quite the jack-of-all-trades before, able to stretch their abilities quite far within their domain—what could they possibly not possess? “I… what?”

_ “A… catalyst?”  _ said Link somewhat hesitantly, clearly struggling to explain. _ “The Deku Tree is about the oldest of Hyrule’s guardian spirits, besides the dragons. He helped me… cement? Secure? He helped me finalize my communication abilities somehow, as the spirit who helped create the elder language. Without his blessing, you won’t learn properly.” _

“Not  _ properly,  _ perhaps,” echoed Zelda, “but a little, at least?”

Link tilted their head to one side, clearly asking for clarification.

“Even if I can’t get the full effect right away, it’s still worth trying,” said Zelda. “Haven’t you ever had something worth really working for? I’ve found there’s many things which require second or third tries to get right, but I wouldn’t get it right without trying in the first place.”

Link rubbed the back of their head sheepishly before continuing.  _ “Well… no. I think you forgot I’m immortal. Time doesn’t pass the same way for me. The only time I really had to focus and work on something was learning spirit-talk.” _

Zelda snorted.

_ “Yes, I get it. And I also get your point—we’ll work on it,”  _ promised Link.  _ “But can you think about what I asked earlier?” _

Zelda hummed agreeably and turned her thoughts inward, trying to summon the similarities and differences between each instance of her sudden magic hearing. “I made physical contact with Farosh…”

Link nodded sagely, letting their horse take the lead once more to sign.  _ “That helps a lot. Physical form is created by and tied to our magic.” _

“But I certainly wasn’t holding hands with any of the corrupted Sheikah, or you, when I heard words,” mused Zelda. “So what was the trigger?”

Link frowned, tapping their fingers on their saddle horn thoughtfully before continuing.  _ “You were in deadly situations with Farosh and in the desert. On the bridge… you were scared, right?” _

“...a bit, perhaps.”

_ “There’s the trigger,”  _ said Link, snapping their fingers (which made Epona snort and go to bite their boot, evidently responding to whatever effect the snap had).  _ “You need to have heightened emotions to hear. Not an uncommon start, but I wanted to make sure…” _

“If you’re considering trying to scare the living daylights out of me to get me to hear, I should tell you that Impa taught me Sheikah self-defense,” said Zelda dryly as she nudged Thunder back on course (the ornery horse had decided the side of the path looked like a lovely place to explore). It was an art that tended to leave an assailant’s eyes and other soft bits worse for wear, which Link clearly knew, judging from the slight wince.

_ “Of course not,”  _ they said, unconvincingly.

“Right. But if it’s just a heightened emotional state, then things other than fear should apply, correct?” said Zelda. “Like… I don’t know, extreme happiness.”

Link nodded.  _ “Emotional health is a big part of understanding spirits—happiness would actually work better—but the reason fear triggers it is because your mind is automatically trying to reach out for help from anyone who can listen. It’s a defensive measure. What makes you really happy?” _

Zelda opened her mouth. Closed it. “This is going to sound… depressing, but there’s not an awful lot that really makes me  _ happy  _ recently. It’s been a stressful month or so.”

Link made a face.  _ “Understandable. Nothing at all?” _

“Well, I’ll never pass up a chance to study spirits and your magic, of course—and ancient history, but I’ve had more contact with the former lately,” said Zelda. “It’s just hard to focus on those with everything else going on—where are you going?”

Link had veered off to the left as they came up on the last of the Faron Woods, towards some ancient, crumbling Zonai columns that Zelda had disregarded on the way in. They were too good of a rider for Epona to have done that on her own, so it was definitely Link’s idea to halt right there and examine the ancient stone intently. 

“You’re sweet, but we should really try to cover more ground before doing any archaeology,” said Zelda, unwilling to tell them that she’d already gone over those very columns with a fine-tooth comb over the course of her studies. They no longer had anything of note to offer.

Link dismounted and turned to Zelda long enough to sign,  _ “Humor me, I sense something.” _

_ That  _ got her attention. Zelda dismounted with some difficulty, only somewhat sure that Thunder would stay when she left him, and followed Link to the base of one towering column. She had barely made it when they squinted towards the top and leapt right up, clinging to the side of the stone like a spider. 

“Link,  _ what  _ are you doing?”

Link glanced back down and found their footing on a ledge several feet up, extending a hand towards Zelda.

“Alright, but I’m not the best climber,” said Zelda, stepping forward and using a fallen bit of masonry to boost herself up enough to grab the proffered hand. “Yo—AUGH!”

Link had latched on to her wrist and  _ yanked, _ pulling Zelda up to their level in less than a second. She barely had time to blink before Link was helping her find footing on the narrow ledge.

“You’re shorter than I am, stop being stronger,” she said, shock taking the usual biting snark from her response. Link smirked and pointed upwards to the top of the column, gesturing one-handed for Zelda to follow and let them assist.

In that manner—Zelda found herself literally tossed upwards more than once—they both ascended the column, finally reaching the top, where… nothing waited. Nothing but a small, weathered rock balanced on the uneven crown of the pillar. 

“Link, not to be rude, but are your senses faulty?” said Zelda skeptically. 

Link huffed and poked her shoulder in retribution.  _ “Look closer. Listen. Something hides here—try to find it.” _

Zelda blinked. “Listen… how?”

Link shrugged helplessly.  _ “I already said I’m a bad teacher.” _

Zelda sighed and sat down on the top of the pillar with her legs dangling over the edge. She absent-mindedly traced meaningless patterns on the weathered rock that sat atop the pillar, briefly wondering how it got there, and closed her eyes. Heightened emotions had helped before…

“Link, if you scare me now and I fall off the pillar, I’m haunting you until the end of time. Clear?”

No response, but she got the feeling that they had backed off slightly. Zelda sighed and went back to listening to nature around her, trying to sense the nearby “entity”. What could it even  _ be?  _ Surely not a spirit, not in such a time of crisis… 

On a whim, Zelda turned around to check on Link, who was doing a handstand for no apparent reason. “Really?”

Link gave her an upside-down grin, shifting to a one-armed handstand as they did.

“Showoff,” said Zelda, turning away from them again. Her hand on the weathered rock continued tracing patterns as she tried to put her thoughts in order, tried to harness the feeling of energy buzzing through her head and words that weren’t words at all ringing in her ears. 

Was the rock getting warmer?

_ Forest’s too calm… if I’m supposed to be extra happy to get this to work, or scared or something, just sitting here won’t do much.  _

After what felt like hours but was closer to ten minutes in reality, Zelda admitted defeat. She simply couldn’t track whatever was so different about her immediate surroundings, and as nice of a gesture as it was for Link to stop and try to put her in a good environment, it just wasn’t working. When she admitted as much to the spirit standing precariously on the edge of the pillar, they frowned slightly and nodded.

_ “I thought that might happen,”  _ admitted Link, after standing back on their feet next to the weathered rock.  _ “No one gets it first try. Here.” _

Without further ado, they hooked their fingers under the rock and heaved, chucking it right off the pillar without even breaking a sweat. Zelda was about to call them a showoff again when a puff of smoke and high-pitched giggle cut her off. 

“Yahaha! You found me!”

Zelda openly gaped at the tiny, plantlike creature—a Korok, her mind supplied—which had burst from midair as if summoned. It tilted a leafy, masked face at her curiously, then spotted Link and cheered, waving a tiny pinwheel excitedly. 

“Wild spirit! Wild spirit! I found  _ you!” _

Link held out two hands and let the Korok hop aboard, raising it to their face with an intent look. They were speaking, Zelda could tell, but she heard nothing—and she was too busy trying to think what sort of questions she wanted to ask a Korok and how she could get closer without scaring it to feel bad about her apparent deafness. 

“I know! Grandfather told us to scatter our magic,” said the Korok, seemingly in response to Link. “The bad ones won’t find us Koroks, especially not me! I won the hide-and-seek championship three centuries in a row!”

“That’s quite the accomplishment,” said Zelda, the words falling straight from her brain to her tongue without passing through so much as a single filter. Link glanced at her, eyes twinkling, and crouched with the Korok extended. “Oh—I—are you sure?”

The Korok chose for her. “Catch!”

Zelda fumbled and caught the little spirit just in time, marveling at the surprising weight behind something that could float on nothing but a pinwheel. The Korok stood on two stubby legs and waved the pinwheel with equally stubby arms, its small and round body easily balancing on Zelda’s careful palms. The texture on her skin was something like stripped bark, and though she dared not touch the Korok’s face—mask?—Zelda was quite certain it was a real leaf, kept alive and fresh with magic. 

“You’re special,” said the Korok cheerily. “How come you aren’t hiding?”

“We’ve got to travel,” explained Zelda after a long moment. “You… can tell something’s different about me?”

The pinwheel bopped her nose lightly and Zelda blinked, surprised. 

“You glow!” said the Korok, with the “well, duh” tone of a child explaining that the sky is blue. “How come you can see me, but you can’t see the glow?”

Link caught Zelda’s eye and started signing.  _ “He needs to hide again soon. How are you feeling?” _

Zelda considered the question while the Korok caught a strand of her hair and played with it, entranced. Without her even noticing, the impending sense of doom and frustration had faded into the background—not completely, but quite a bit. Something about interacting with a spirit so carefree as the little Korok automatically lightened her thoughts in a way they hadn’t been in ages. “Better, I think. Thank you.”

She really  _ did  _ feel much better, both from Link’s kind gesture and the Korok’s gleeful parting cheer before bursting into leaves and disappearing.  _ I think I’ll do just fine. _

(Her mood promptly soured again when Thunder chose to use her foot as a stepping stone before allowing her to mount up, but Zelda chose to try and see the silver lining). 

_ At least I was wearing boots…  _

“You let him do that,” she accused in Link’s general direction once they were underway once more. 

They reeled back in overdramatic mock offense.  _ “He’s quick! I can only advise so far!” _

“That’s what you say,” said Zelda skeptically. She laid the back of her hand over her forehead like a fainting noblewoman, declaring, “Even the people closest to me! Conspiring with a  _ horse!” _

Link never laughed aloud—never said  _ anything  _ aloud—but Zelda did manage to get a snort out of them, which she considered a victory. 

Unfortunately, the victories remained small for the next three days of riding. They traveled slow—three days to the outskirts of Hyrule Field when it could have been one—and stopped often, all for the sake of Zelda trying to learn. Though she disliked being unable to grasp something on the first or second try, Zelda knew that progress was progress.

_ Progress is progress,  _ she told herself, when Link told stories of the Zonai warriors they’d blessed long ago to distract her and—though fascinating—the chance to learn activated no latent ability to listen with her mind. 

_ Progress is progress,  _ she told herself, when she asked Link to help her brush up on sword skills to try and focus her mind and something—perhaps the adrenaline, perhaps the excitement from actually holding her own for about ten seconds—made her feel an enthusiasm that wasn’t hers for a split second. 

_ Progress is progress,  _ she told herself, when Link started having “conversations” with her half-in and half-out of spirit speech, making a falsely curious face when Zelda glared from behind her notebook—and she knew the difference between Link’s mischief and Epona’s for an instant.

_ Progress is progress.  _ A fleeting barrage of words-that-were-not, there then gone before Zelda could decipher them—but  _ there.  _

_ Progress is progress.  _ The difference between sensing Link’s presence and between that of a hidden Korok’s became clearer, easier, and she could tell when Link was speaking to Epona by the different sort of “buzz”.

_ Progress is pro- _

_ “You keep saying that.” _

Zelda jolted and left a thick line of charcoal across the page where she’d been attempting to doodle a Korok from memory, accidentally splitting the drawing in half. It couldn’t be. She didn’t just-

“...Link?”

Link stopped cleaning Epona’s tack on the other end of their makeshift little campsite, glancing over. They immediately dropped the brush in favor of just  _ staring  _ at her, ignoring the fact that the brush had landed perfectly on their foot. 

_ “Did you actually hear that?” _

Their words were disjointed, muddy, and seemed almost faraway, as if she were listening from underwater—but she  _ heard  _ them,  _ understood,  _ and Zelda sat there stunned for a second. 

“I—I did? I did!” Zelda’s pencil and notebook dropped to the ground as she shot to her feet, stammering, “do it again! Say—say something else!”

Silence. A buzz of excitement and curiosity, but no words, even though Link had that  _ look  _ in their eye that meant speech. 

“Ah. That bit I… didn’t quite understand,” admitted Zelda, deflating slightly—but less than a second later, she found herself wrapped up in deceptively-strong arms and nearly pulled right off her feet by Link’s enthusiasm. 

_ But you  _ did _ it,  _ said that hug, clear as day without any need for spirit-talk. After a moment, Zelda giggled despite herself and hugged back, giddy with victory.

This time, she felt hope from both Link and herself. 

—

“Do you inspect  _ every _ single stable you come across?” Zelda asked idly, having finally located Link in the most secluded horse stalls the stable had to offer. They glanced up from the intense staring contest a knight’s destrier had decided to start and shrugged. 

_ “Just in…” _

The words faded from Zelda’s mind before she heard the whole sentence, but she got the gist. “Just in case, I understand. I got the supplies I needed from the traders, by the way. Will you be blessing or cursing today?”

Link rolled their eyes jokingly.  _ “Blessing.” _

A sense of joy, then the peculiar buzz which Zelda knew usually meant Link was talking about horses. “The… the horses are happy, so you are?”

Link smiled and nodded, switching to sign:  _ “Got it in one.” _

No matter how often it happened, Zelda would never get tired of the thrill that ran through her blood every time she understood Link—even if it was just their emotions coming through. She’d even started being able to  _ purposefully _ send more cohesive meaning (though apparently her accent was atrocious).

_ At this rate, the Deku Tree won’t have anything to actually teach me,  _ she mused giddily, following Link out of the stable towards where Epona and a rather grouchy Thunder were picketed (the latter of whom was doing his level best to stretch out and eat the trailing Hyrule Herbs from an inattentive merchant’s basket).

Even the occasional odd look from passerby (or, more unsettling, passing soldiers) barely put a dent in Zelda’s mood. Careful to keep her hood up and at least somewhat shadowing her face, she let Link greet the horses and stepped up to the stable’s front desk, which was mercifully empty—good. They had to get back on the road. 

“I’d like to officially take my horses back, please,” said Zelda when the proprietor inside glanced up at her from stacking scrolls in several small cubbies—registration and rental forms, probably. 

He remained frozen in that position for longer than Zelda would have liked, staring as if he thought he recognized her, but not from where. 

“Sir?”

“Ah, forgive me, miss. It’s been a long day,” said the proprietor, smiling with too many teeth. “Which horses were those, now?”

Zelda glanced at the sky.  _ It’s barely past nine.  _

If she  _ really  _ focused, some people could be read in that curious emotion-only manner that tended to rule her interactions with Link. Zelda wasn’t about to reach out and grab the man’s hand to make it easier, but she did keep a careful, unbroken stare on him as he went about grabbing the right papers to process her request. He called an assistant “to help”—an assistant who practically sprinted out the door after seeing Zelda. 

_ No use,  _ Zelda lamented silently, giving up on her attempts to read the proprietor.  _ He’s not too in-tune with nature, clearly.  _

She settled for being on her guard after receiving the go-ahead to get her horses, since she sensed no dark presence besides the mounting suspicion in her own mind.  _ This is fine. Probably.  _

A question from Link prodded at her mind.  _ “Paranoia…?” _

_ “Unsure,”  _ said Zelda in  _ extremely  _ clumsy spirit-speech. Link seemed to understand, as she saw them mount up in half a second from across the way.

Still, they both made it away from the stable and surrounding marketplace unaccosted.  _ Yeah, I was paranoid. _

“HEY! There, on the horses, stop!”

_ Hylia, that better not be your doing! _

Zelda registered the lack of other riders in their immediate vicinity at the same time she recognized a sense of  _ wrong  _ starting to build, as if sensing a distant (yet rapidly approaching) threat. 

Link nudged Epona into a run right after Zelda did the same with Epona, and their cover made it safer for Zelda to look back.  _ Wait. _

Soldiers of the crown were the ones who had cried out, and the ones currently racing for horses to give chase. 

The dark presence grew stronger, approaching from… the south.  _ The same direction as the soldiers.  _

Fear hit Zelda’s heart then, sure as any arrow while she struggled to keep Thunder from clipping a merchant’s stall in their escape. She wasn’t—she couldn’t be right, could she? Could the corrupted Shiekah hide behind friendly faces and go without detection?

“Don’t!” she cried, when Link went to draw their bow. “Don’t—you might hit a civilian—I don’t know who exactly is chasing-“

Link saw—or maybe felt—the fear that coated Zelda’s entire demeanor and complied, settling for saying…  _ something  _ to Epona and sending Thunder a look that made the near-stampeding horse calm down enough for Zelda to direct him. 

_ “Follow close!” _

_ At least I understood  _ that _ clearly.  _

Link started a weaving path through the stream of merchants’ wagons and wandering traders and regular travelers, clearly trusting people to get out of the way of a powerful horse like Epona even when someone hunted by royal soldiers was riding her. Zelda made sure to keep close behind in the path they forged, though some of that might have been Link’s influence on Thunder and not her own skills—no, all of it was, she hadn’t ridden any horses with a tendency to try and sprint from danger like that before. 

“Stop them!”

“You there! Don’t let those horses pass!”

“HEY! Halt right there!”

Occasionally soldiers caught wind of the shouts from their fellows and tried to intercept, but they scattered when Link seemed to be playing a game of cucco—and for all Zelda knew, they  _ wouldn’t  _ have peeled away in time. 

Not all soldiers followed or obeyed the orders—some of them ever tried to hold their fellows back—and even in her semi-panicked state of trying to keep Thunder in line, Zelda made note of that.  _ They’ve been infiltrated- _

But they seemed intent on keeping the disguise, at least, and the rising  _ wrong  _ feeling faded the farther Link and Zelda got from that ill-fated stable and the pursuers, until it was totally gone by the time they stopped and hid in a tucked-away copse of trees not far from the marshes near Zora’s Domain. 

Zelda slid off of Thunder’s back and fished an apple from her bag tiredly, which he accepted  _ without  _ trying to bite her hand for once. “What. The hell.”

_ “I was about to say that,”  _ said Link, switching to sign after they dismounted.  _ “Soldiers hunting you? Do you look like a famous criminal or something?” _

“I don’t think they were soldiers,” said Zelda after a moment, recalling the faint darkness and varying reactions. “I think… they were corrupted Sheikah. Hiding in plain sight, as it were.”

Link frowned.  _ “That’s a new move.” _

“No kidding. We really don’t know anything about them, do we?” said Zelda, the gears already turning in her mind. An idea occurred to her, but she hesitated, unsure how Link would react. “We… might need a detour.”

_ “How so?” _

“Kakariko. Impa told me to make that a stop if I could, since the current matriarch—her mother—should know more,” said Zelda. “I thought we might be able to get away with crossing the entire continent first, but…”

_ “Makes sense,”  _ said Link, nodding along.  _ “The Sheikah have secrets even some spirits don’t know. We’ll need to be careful, but we should make it soon.” _

“Soon-ish, most likely, but I’m glad you agree,” said Zelda, tamping down her rising fear of their largely-unknown enemies. “The sooner we start, the sooner we get there. Let’s go.”

It would be another day or so of travel, but Zelda would do anything to dispel the dread that came with being unprepared. 

—

“We’re here,” Zelda said quietly, unwilling to disturb the tense silence. She reflexively patted Thunder’s neck, though she knew the horse was just as on edge as she was. Corrupted Sheikah… could they sneak into Kakariko as they seemed to have infiltrated the stable system?

A tiny press of reassurance made it through her foggy mind and Zelda glanced back at Link with a short-lived smile, letting them know she’d heard. 

Up ahead, the gate of Kakariko Village loomed from the mist, looking far more ominous than it usually did. Zelda squinted to the houses beyond and saw no one moving around, which instantly put her on edge—but when she clumsily tried to listen to her surroundings the way Link had described, the dark buzz she knew came from the beleaguered Cotera yielded no voices. At least there was that. No enemies… though she saw no sure friends, either. 

“We should leave the horses at the gate. They won’t maneuver well within the village,” said Zelda, her voice barely above a murmur. The fog seemed to lay itself over her lips, preventing her words from reaching normal speech volume. The gentle  _ thud _ of Link’s boots hitting the ground told her that they had dismounted, and Zelda followed suit a moment later, making sure to give Thunder one last pat as reassurance. 

Normally, Kakariko Village gave off a happy, tranquil energy, nestled as it was in a circle of protective mountains. Now, Zelda could practically  _ touch  _ the tension in the air as she and Link made their way towards the largest hut in town where answers would (hopefully) be found.

“Halt! Not a step further!”

Zelda only heeded the words of the guards when she was barely a spear’s reach from them, at which point she stopped and drew her hood back. Each Sheikah—a man and a woman—instantly stiffened, recognizing the face that glared at them through the mist. 

“I insist on entering,” she said coolly. Link’s presence at her side gave off a similar energy of  _ do not refuse me,  _ and Zelda caught the unmistakable signs of the Sheikah recognizing the otherworldliness of the being before them. 

“I… yes, Your Highness,” said the male guard, casting his fellow a confused look before they both stepped aside. Zelda and Link proceeded up the stairs without a word to either guard. 

“This might get a bit hairy,” Zelda murmured. “Impa’s mother is a bit… stringent about rules, at times.”

Link said nothing, but Zelda knew they understood. 

_ Knock. Knock. Knock.  _

“Enter.”

Lady Nikala's voice had gotten no less sharp than the last time Zelda had spoken with her, some several months ago, but something about it was different regardless. Tired? Scared? Neither descriptor fit the severe Sheikah woman Zelda knew, which made the way she pushed the door open a bit more tentative than intended. 

One of Lady Nikala’s attendants—a young woman with the classic Sheikah hair but, oddly enough, no red eyes—was the first to spot her. “P—Princess _ Zelda?” _

The Lady herself was at the back wall, tending to the ancient tapestry that had been passed down in her tribe for generations. She stiffened and turned, seeing Zelda for herself. 

“Yes, good afternoon,” said Zelda with the barest minimum of politeness, stepping inside. The door remained open behind her, but she paid it no mind. 

“Your Highness, what are you doing here?” Lady Nikala asked, her voice sharp. No matter how much she looked like Impa, Zelda’s bodyguard had not inherited the ice permanently in the Lady’s eyes. 

“I’ve come with questions, and I intend to find the true answers,” said Zelda. 

Lady Nikala’s eyes flicked momentarily to the open doorway behind Zelda. “You travel with a spirit, not just questions.”

Zelda frowned and turned to look at Link, who had not proceeded even an inch beyond the doorway. “You can come inside, you know.”

Link shook their head and raised a loose fist, knocking on the seemingly-normal air between them and the inside of the house. A tiny flash of light occurred when their fist made contact with some invisible wall which did not affect Zelda. 

“There’s a barrier which keeps powerful spiritual entities out,” said Lady Nikala, walking right past Zelda to Link. “Tell me, which one are you and why do  _ you _ travel with the princess instead of my daughter?”

Link tilted to see past her and made eye contact with Zelda, a bemused look on their face. 

“This is Link,” said Zelda, deliberately avoiding answering Lady Nikala’s inquiry about their domain. “Their reasons for traveling with me are… not to be discussed with anyone else around. Can you lower the barrier?”

“Depends,” said Lady Nikala, facing her again. “Do you have a spare three days?”

“I’ll take that as a no. Link, do you mind waiting here?”

Link frowned, but nodded. 

“Princess, I never agreed to answer any questions.”

“Does the term ‘corrupted Sheikah’ mean anything to you?” countered Zelda, noting that the attendant in the corner—silent for the conversation—instantly stiffened. Lady Nikala let on about nothing, but she didn’t interrupt. “I need to know the full story. Impa told me to seek you out and ask.”

A long silence ruled the room for several moments. 

“Very well,” said Lady Nikala eventually, dismissing her attendant with a wave of her hand. “I believe I know of which you speak. Spirit, I am operating under the assumption that you are friendly—if this is true, remain nearby and do not stray.”

Annoyance fluttered through to Zelda from Link, but they nodded and stepped away from the doorframe regardless. Lady Nikala closed the door deftly and led Zelda upstairs—though leaving Link behind didn’t sit very well, and Zelda couldn’t help but wonder what information she was walking into. 

“The clan you reference is ancient,” began Lady Nikala as she closed her own bedroom door behind her, moving past Zelda afterwards to select a book from her expansive shelves. It was perhaps the widest and thinnest book Zelda had ever seen, and when opened, it revealed a gently-folded piece of cloth tucked between the yellowed pages. She gestured for Zelda to move over to the large writing desk tucked in the corner and gently spread out the cloth, revealing-

“The  _ history of Hyrule tapestry?”  _ Zelda gasped, instantly recognizing the art style. “This is a piece of it, isn’t it? One I’ve never seen before.”

“I am sure you know quite a bit of history, Princess,” began Lady Nikala, “but there are some things reserved only for the Sheikah. I only tell you now because my daughter told you of their existence… and because you would have learned soon anyway.”

Zelda sensed that she was meant to remain quiet, so she let Lady Nikala speak.

“Long ago, just after the Great Calamity, the Sheikah clan was powerful and advanced, and Hyrule flourished,” said Lady Nikala, her stern voice flowing evenly over the words of her story. For all Zelda wasn’t the Lady’s biggest fan, she was admittedly quite the storyteller. “You are aware, I’m sure, of the royal order for our technologies to be buried.”

“I am,” said Zelda flatly. It was her least favorite piece of history, and she often cursed her ancestors for being responsible for it. 

“What you are  _ not  _ aware of is the true nature of the resulting fallout,” said Lady Nikala, gesturing to an illustration depicting two rows of people running from soldiers. The top row were clearly Sheikah, with their distinctive clothes and insignia, but the bottom row of warped figures…  _ they  _ bore the upside-down eye of the mysterious attackers. “Roughly half of our tribe agreed and largely hid our magics and technology. The other half became the Yiga Clan, devoted to destroying the royal family and all it stands for.”

Zelda rolled the term  _ Yiga Clan  _ around in her head, making sure she remembered it. “They are the force behind what’s wrong with the spirits. Somehow, they’ve infiltrated nearly every domain in Hyrule and infected it.”

Lady Nikala turned her head sharply, pinning Zelda with her cold eyes. “They remain active?”

“They tried to kill me. What else do you know of them?”

Silence. Lady Nikala turned those icy eyes on Zelda, and her demeanor… switched. Not physically. It took Zelda a moment to realize she was picking up on the Lady’s  _ emotions,  _ and they were certainly different from the detached alarm and curiosity she had felt before. Zelda could only call them  _ cluttered,  _ conflicting fear and clinical analysis. 

“If they are indeed active once more… then that explains some things, and I owe you the full explanation,” said Lady Nikala. “There is another piece of history you are unlikely to have been taught, Princess—I trust you know of the history  _ before  _ Hyrule?”

“The legends of the skies? I know the basics,” said Zelda warily.

Dread coiled behind Zelda’s breastbone as Lady Nikala nodded, moving away from the scrap of tapestry and reaching up to the wall behind her desk, where several small portraits of her family hung. She pressed an invisible lever near to the low ceiling and pulled on the string which popped out, revealing a hidden compartment which she rummaged inside for a moment before continuing. 

“Yes. The major gods of that time formed a precursor to what we now call the Triforce, but said precursor is said to have fallen apart long before Hyrule’s existence,” said Lady Nikala. “The Goddess Hylia embodied Wisdom. A god known as the Fierce Deity was the equivalent of Courage. A third god, called Demise, was the equivalent of Power—but the Fierce Deity disappeared from history, which imbalanced their prototype Triforce and began a rift between Hylia and Demise.”

Zelda wasn’t sure how much of her unease came from the trapped Great Fairy just beyond the village’s limits and how much was from the tale she was hearing. It seemed to be growing—the sense of dread continued to coil in her chest, tight and ready to spring. 

“The consequences of that rift are many and varied, but the Yiga’s reason for existence is undeniably one of them.” Lady Nikala pulled a dusty, rough-hewn box from the compartment and gestured for Zelda to go sit on the woven mat in the middle of the room. She set the box down there with a  _ thunk,  _ loud enough in the still air to be jarring, and opened the latch with a  _ click,  _ pulling out another folded cloth. 

_ Another tapestry,  _ Zelda realized, watching the Lady spread it out on the floor between them. This one was in the same style as the one Zelda already knew of, but it depicted entirely different scenes—and when Lady Nikala took out a piece of spell paper from her pocket and snapped her fingers, the images began to move like desert mirages, dizzying Zelda until she closed her eyes briefly. 

“When my tribe split into two, a period of turbulent internal politics began,” said Lady Nikala, her voice almost seeming to echo despite the small space, as if she spoke into an empty canyon and not a dimly-lit loft room. 

The figures on the upper right-hand corner of the cloth twitched and shifted unnaturally, moving to fit her words—Sheikah on top, Yiga on the bottom. The Sheikah surrounded a small, elegant statue, bowing to it reverently, while the Yiga defaced an identical statue with their symbol.

“Hylia has always been the deity we Sheikah serve. She and Her values are the backbone of our culture, and without Her influence, we are not truly Sheikah—and the same goes for the royal family, who are descended from Her. So, during the split… the Yiga found another deity, one whose hatred for the Goddess was overwhelming enough to spill over into mortal lives for millennia.”

The Sheikah figures turned static while the Yiga continued to move, leaving behind the defaced statue and jerkily making their way down the edge of the cloth, where warped brambles of purple and black began to surround their path. The brambles solidified into a shapeless cloud surrounding the Yiga, grabbing hold of their arms and legs like a parasite. A pair of red eyes slowly opened above the now-surrounded Yiga, inhuman and unnatural.

“Long ago, the god Demise waged his war and lost to the Goddess’ incarnation and Her chosen Hero of Courage. He was sealed by a method lost to time for his transgressions, though not before cursing the bloodline of the Goddess and the spirit of Her chosen hero to be forever bound to his hatred. Again and again this curse loomed over Hyrule, the latest incarnation being the Calamity of ten thousand years ago—all for the purpose of destroying all Hylia holds dear.”

The Yiga figures temporarily froze as the center of the tapestry swirled to match Lady Nikala’s words, depicting a flame-headed god battling a warrior a mere quarter of his size. With a flash of the warrior’s sword, the god fell—but even as he did, warped, twisted energy spilled from the spot he disappeared, twisting across the tapestry like a malevolent spider’s web. 

“The royal family, favored by Hylia, is their target—meaning the Yiga serve Demise and his age-old curse, aiming to bring it to fruition. By targeting spirits…” Lady Nikala trailed off, her eyes stormy, and snapped her fingers to end the animating spell. “They target servants of Hylia. No wonder they tried to kill you.”

“They’re not just trying to kill  _ me,” _ muttered Zelda, examining the tapestry and her own memories. “They’re trying to corrupt the domains of spirits. Why? To weaken Hylia? She’s already silent to us.”

“That… I do not know,” said Lady Nikala grimly. “I know only the history, not the present.”

The dread reached Zelda’s throat. She knew that feeling, but she heard no voices—was the blight around Cotera spreading closer? Getting stronger? Either way, she knew the  _ wrong  _ magic was nearby, and even knowing that Link was just outside didn’t help calm her nerves. 

“I would need more information,” said Lady Nikala. “Princess, why have you come seeking this knowledge? Why do you travel with a spirit?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” said Zelda, “but I’m doing this for the spirits and because the Goddess Hylia personally told me to help. As… as the only order She’s ever given me, I intend to follow it to the letter and see it through.”

Something changed in Lady Nikala’s demeanor again—tiny, almost imperceptible, but she almost… softened. 

The fear did not leave her eyes.

“Princess, there is something you should know. My other daughter recently sent a letter regarding the suspicious timing of-“

But a sudden shout rang out from outside, breaking Zelda’s focus—though the shout wasn’t  _ nearly _ as loud as the noise in her head. 

_ Ow! _

_ Silence-fool-she-can-hear! _

“You have  _ spies _ in your village!”

Zelda was out and down the stairs before Lady Nikala could respond, slamming the front door open and frantically casting about for Link. 

Fear, unnatural and not her own, shot through Zelda like a lightning bolt—a warning. 

Zelda dropped instantly, barely avoiding the two arrows that thudded into the wall behind her. She finally found Link—back-to-back with a Sheikah warrior, facing off against two hulking Yiga.  _ Where’s the archer? _

She had her answer a moment later when one of Lady Nikala’s guards cut another arrow right from the air before her, and this time Zelda saw that its trajectory originated on the roof of the inn—and that another arrow was already nocked, aimed directly at Link. 

“LINK, DUCK!”

In her fear, Zelda had forgotten that it was Link who warned her of the archer in the first place—they were already dodging, but they couldn’t tug the other Sheikah warrior out of the way in time, and blood from the resulting shoulder wound painted the side of their face red.

One of the guards tried to drag Zelda back inside, but she yanked her arm away—who knew how many Yiga hid among soft robes and straw hats?—and leapt right down the stairs, leaving behind the house of secrets. Link broke away and stuck two fingers in their mouth, whistling sharply for the horses. A bellow split the air a moment later, sharp and commanding for a woman in her eighties:

“SHEIKAH WARRIORS! If you stand with me and my house, do NOT give chase! Intercept the traitors of our blood!”

The order, if sudden, was obeyed instantly—Zelda and Link were free to meet their horses halfway, covered by the Sheikah who turned without question to face the red-clad Yiga. The only way out was the way they’d come. Could the Sheikah distract the Yiga long enough?

_ You’re a shortsighted fool! Of course they were watching Kakariko, Cotera is right there!  _ Zelda berated herself, struggling mightily to remain on Thunder’s back as they left the gates of Kakariko behind. But there was no more time to panic—not when the Yiga were keeping pace with their teleportation, appearing behind her every couple seconds to take a swipe. 

_ Thwip.  _ One of Link’s arrows made it just past Zelda’s nose and struck a Yiga in the shoulder, throwing off the sickle aimed for Zelda’s heart. It sliced a line along her bicep instead, but Zelda hardly felt the pain. 

_ Get-them-kill-them  _

_ NOW I hear it, of  _ course-

Zelda frantically tried to stop Thunder’s barely-constrained panic from shaking her right out of the saddle, keeping a death grip on the reins for fear she’d lose them and using every ounce of spare focus to recall what the castle hostlers—and Link—had drilled into her mind about staying in the saddle:

_ Sit back, don’t tense, sit back, don’t tense- _

_ Hurry-up-destroy-them _

_ Don’t  _ tense,  _ Zelda, don’t tense- _

Bend in the road. Zelda was acutely aware of the narrow cliff path ahead and kept her focus on where Link was and where the Yiga were and where each larger divot in the road was and where her hands tugged on the reins and  _ it was all too much to track- _

_ “Don’t stray!” _

_ Right. Link’s here. I don’t just hear Yiga like this.  _

_ Shoot-you-fool! _

Zelda ducked an arrow instinctively and yelped as Thunder took the noise by his ear to be an immediate threat and outright  _ charged,  _ the burst of adrenaline nearly causing Zelda to get swiped from the saddle by the branches of a lonely tree on the path. 

_ Bridge isn’t far, just lose them, just stay in the saddle and lose them- _

_ “Get ahead of me!” _

_ Do-not-lose-them! _

Zelda let Link fall behind slightly and vaguely wondered why a flash of fierce concern made it through her mind when they passed—before glancing down to see that blood from her arm had painted her sleeve red. Ah. That was why. She spared a glance backwards-

_ What-the-hell _

_ For once, I agree with the Yiga. _

No words from Link, for they were busy launching themself from Epona’s back, doing a  _ flip  _ midair, and somehow firing five arrows in the span of half a second to hit every single chasing Yiga at once as they teleported back into existence. Zelda didn’t see them land—too busy trying to stop Thunder from running himself into the rapidly-approaching river—but Epona soon came galloping right back up to speed with Link astride her back as if nothing had happened.

The voices of the Yiga disappeared, and Zelda finally felt the pain from her arm, stabbing and burning and  _ what was on that blade- _

__ _ “...no…!” _

__ _ Link? I can’t hear you…  _

__ Zelda wasn’t sure how she stayed in the saddle. She wasn’t even sure how Thunder stopped galloping, though it was probably Link—and she certainly wasn’t sure how they ended up on the outskirts of Blatchery Plain, tucked away in a scraggly patch of trees while Link helped her sit and tried to poke the slash in her shoulder concernedly.

“I know first aid,” she managed, clumsily shoving their hand away and receiving an impressive glare in return. 

_ “We will need to move soon. They will come back.” _

__ “I know—I-“

A hand on her shoulder stopped Zelda from continuing and she belatedly realized that she was shaking. The world around her had simplified down to just the searing pain in her arm, the rough tree bark at her back, and Link’s normally-soothing but now-indetectable presence at her side. 

“If this is more than just a cut—no, let me finish,” said Zelda, knowing better than to grab the hands of a signing person—very rude, that—but coming awfully close. “I’ll tell you what I learned, but i have another lead—a scientist in Hateno who’s been working on this issue since I found out. She’s been analyzing the thorns. The—the result of the Yiga’s magic.”

Link frowned.  _ “The who?” _

“I—I can explain when we’re safer,” said Zelda, glancing around the uncomfortably-open surroundings as her arm continued to burn.  _ Hylia, was that sword coated in alcohol? _

_ “Then it’s time for another detour, if she can give us a better lead and check on that arm,”  _ said Link.  _ “Hateno isn’t too far, but the horses can only go so fast after that… it’ll be nightfall.” _

“She’ll shelter us,” said Zelda assuringly. “Help me stand?”

_ “Sure. Just let me bandage that first.” _

“...be gentle.”

—

Hateno Village had always been a nice place to observe from afar, in Link’s opinion—bustling, cheerful, and friendly, with plenty of good farms for a spirit like them to bless. 

Now, though… Link didn’t like it so much. 

Zelda was swaying slightly in the saddle, shaking her head to stay up and alert, and both of the horses seemed to be in a similar condition after the frantic run down the road from Kakariko. 

_ I know, I know, you did wonderfully,  _ they told both Epona and Thunder.  _ You can both rest after this. We just need to make it to safety.  _

Since the horses were nearly exhausted and Zelda was clearly not set to be vigilant, it was up to Link to dispel the odd passerby giving them strange looks. They chose to keep a loose grip on the reins and casually hold their sword crosswise in their lap, which certainly helped. 

Through the town, past every house, and up a winding hill they went as the sun finally sank below the horizon and threw the world into shadow. They were aiming for the lighthouse crowning the hill, which Link had always disregarded but now held what might be the key to their survival. Robbie and Purah, as Zelda had named her friends studying the plight of spirits, seemed to have no qualms about late nights—not a single light in the building was off. 

_ There might be an apple tree on the top,  _ they told Thunder, who snorted and stopped trying to drag the reins out of Zelda’s hands.  _ You’re a very predictable horse sometimes, you know.  _

But, regardless of Link’s apprehension or the horses’ exhaustion, they made it. Link helped Zelda dismount, wincing in sympathy when she jarred her arm and hissed, and followed her to the front door. 

“I imagine we can just let the horses graze in the backyard,” said Zelda, before stepping up to knock. 

_ Knock, knock, knock.  _

No response. Zelda frowned and tried again. 

_ Knock, knock, kno- _

“I’m coming, I’m coming! You people don’t know when to quit, do you?”

The irate voice from inside hardly sounded like someone Zelda would be friends with, but Link supposed whoever-it-was didn’t know who was at the door. 

Footsteps thudded closer and closer, as did the ranting. “For the last time, I’m a  _ royal researcher  _ and should not be interrupted no matter who you wannabe civilian heroes think I’m harboring-“

The door swung open, revealing a Sheikah woman who looked not unlike Impa, if Impa was slightly shorter and a love of gaudy glasses and poofy clothes. She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw Zelda, mouth falling open wide enough to catch flies. 

“Sorry for the lack of notice, Purah, but we need your help,” said Zelda. 

Purah continued to stare, open-mouthed, for longer than Link would have liked. It even threw off Zelda, who had claimed to be so “used” to the young Sheikah woman still gaping at them like a fish.

“Purah…?” said Zelda hesitantly.

_ “What  _ in the name of all that is holy _ possessed _ you to come here?” Purah whisper-yelled, grabbing the both of them by their wrists and yanking with surprising strength. Link was inside the building before they knew it, watching Purah slam and deadbolt the door as if a charging bull was on the other side. 

“Princess, dear, you and I are the best of chums. Platonic soulmates! Scientific brain-sharers!” Purah declared, whipping around and pinning Zelda to her spot with a wild-eyes glare. “But you’re an  _ idiot!” _

_ “Purah!” _

“You are! I’m being watched, you know!”

“By the Yiga? Purah, I know about them already,” tried Zelda, but that only earned her a confused frown.

“The what? Nevermind that!  _ Why _ would you come out in the open? And with—is this the other “vagabond” the town criers love to screech about lately?”

“Purah, you’re not making any sense,” said Zelda carefully, speaking with the gentle, wary tone one uses on a ready-to-charge bear (or maybe it was a tone only Link used). “I came here for information, like you offered-“

“I offered  _ before!  _ Now that everything’s gone upside-down and I can’t even get word back from my family-“

Purah stopped, seeing the looks on Link and Zelda’s faces. “You… really haven’t the slightest clue what I’m yelling about, do you?”

“Purah,  _ please,  _ just tell us,” said Zelda, swaying slightly on her feet.  _ Her arm’s getting to her.  _

Purah hesitated—slightly, only slightly, but enough to put Link’s hackles up. “You… must not have been in any towns recently. You’re—er—wanted for high treason, Zelda, you and your travel buddy here. Dead or alive. By order of… well, who else _could_ order that? Your father.”

Silence. Perfect, utter silence, for all of a second.

Then Link  _ felt _ rather than  _ heard _ Zelda’s knees give out and lunged to catch her—but she wouldn’t have felt the impact anyway. She was out cold. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dabs in loves plot twists*


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’re thinking “wow, this update sure was quick!” I owe it all to the lu discord folks—thanks for letting me share so many snippets as I worked and providing all that lovely feedback, yall, I appreciate it SO much
> 
> Enjoy!

Zelda’s father had never been the hugging type. Never the bedtime story type, or the shadow-puppet type, or any other typical fatherly action type. He was a very professional king—though he was more of a prince consort, really, for much of Zelda’s childhood. The crown princess’ assigned spouse for the sake for carrying on the line of Hylia, for her _chosen_ spouse could not provide that. He had been carefully selected by Zelda’s grandmother for his status, his family’s good records, and his success in high education, not his personality or looks. _Certainly_ not his personality. 

He had never been a _great_ father, being inexperienced with children, but he had grown to care for his arranged bride and their child—enough that his betrayal shook Zelda to her very core and broke something, deep down. 

—

_“Papa! Papa! Come look what Impa gave me!”_

_King Rhoam glanced away from the courtier giving him some banal placating report of whatever court gossip had gone on that day and promptly did a double take, as most parents would do when faced with their grinning child wielding a Sheikah-made knife in the middle of their throne room._

_“Zelda, little one,_ why _did Impa give you a knife?” he asked carefully while the courtier wisely backed away._

_“Because I’m six tomorrow! Impa got a knife when she was six because it’s family tradition, and she says I’m family too,” said little Zelda proudly, brandishing the admittedly-gorgeous blade. “Purah gave me a book about frogs. Don’t tell Impa, but I like the frog book more.”_

_“Of course. Er, wouldn’t that be better in the armory? You don’t have the blade training six-year-old Shiekah tend to pick up,” said Rhoam, holding out his hand for the knife. Zelda pouted, hugging the (fortunately-sheathed) blade to her chest._

_“Mama said I look nice with it,” she said, tiny lip jutting out._

_Rhoam stiffened. “You… went and saw her?”_

_The jutting lip wobbled. “It makes her happy when I get excited. I thought I’d try to make her feel better…”_

_The princess was on the verge of crying, and unfortunately for Rhoam, the throne room was quite full of nobles and other court-goers. Constantly the subject of gossip for poor fatherhood, it seemed the gossip-mongers would have plenty more fodder—despite the queen’s fragile state, they never did quite stop._

_“No, that’s—very kind of you, little one,” he said hastily, gingerly placing a hand on his daughter’s shoulder. Zelda sniffled, determined not to shed a tear in front of people. “How about I, er, go up_ with _you next time? As soon as I’m finished here, of course, the trade treaty with the Gorons won’t wait.”_

_Zelda chewed on her lip as a distraction, refusing to look her father in the eyes. “Okay.”_

—

“I suppose I should properly introduce myself after ignoring you in favor of ranting. Purah, head scientist of Hyrule Castle and expert researcher in all things Hyrulean magic, at your service.”

Link somewhat-hesitantly accepted the hand extended to them, which promptly earned a _very_ speedy bone-breaking handshake. _“Link, spirit of the wilds.”_

“You’re _that_ one? Zelda spent _ages_ looking for you, pal!” said Purah, glancing momentarily towards the ceiling as if she could see through to where the princess slept—though “slept” may have been inaccurate, considering she had fainted. “I guess she found you. That must have been interesting… but no, I should focus. What happened to her arm?”

Link hesitated, unsure whether or not to explain the terrifying history Zelda had given them on the way to Hateno. They had already broken _so_ many unspoken laws of being a spirit simply by teaching the language and explaining how to kill a spirit—could they continue? 

“I kinda need to know, Mx. Spirit. Robbie and I aren’t doctors—but what we _can_ do won’t happen without more information,” said Purah after Link had been silent for too long. She barely paused in her task—gathering books that would help with medical treatment—as she spoke, buzzing around like a bee. 

_“She was cut by a sword,”_ said Link eventually, settling for the whole truth—at some point. They had never cared much for the keeping of secrets anyway, being less tied up in the “sanctity” of keeping spirit ways and mortal ways separate. _“It was wielded by the same… entities that put the thorns around the fairies.”_

Purah gulped. “That’s… that’s not good. The thorn stuff _burns,_ and I only got it on my skin-“

_She got it on her SKIN?_

“-I can’t imagine what it would do to someone’s bloodstream. Uh-“ Purah glanced around wildly, eventually pulling out a chair from a nearby table littered with papers. “You just stay down here, I’ll go tell Robbie what we’re dealing with-“

She stopped, noticing the look in Link’s eyes. “You’re not gonna stay, are you?”

_“No.”_

Purah sighed. “Should have known you can’t order a spirit. Fine, but don’t get in the way, got it? You’re not a healer—unless I missed something, and Zelda’s a horse now.”

Link deflated slightly. _“No. I’m… not a healer.”_

They let Purah take the lead out the back door and up a rickety set of stairs that wound around the lighthouse like a vine, keeping a wary eye on the dim lights of Hateno below. How many people had recognized Zelda’s face in the dark? How many soldiers might have been told? Who watched the lighthouse, and did they know?

Link had never seen the king up close and knew next to nothing of his personality, but they knew no sane king declared the crown princess a traitor to the realm for merely disappearing. Mortals were always fussy about heirs and lineages. Zelda’s bloodline, if nothing else, should have ensured she be brought in _alive—_ not “dead or alive”. 

_As it is,_ Link thought grimly as Purah opened the second-floor door, _I’m not totally sure she’s dead or alive._

Robbie hadn’t emerged from the garden—which served more as a scrapyard than anything else—until Zelda had already passed out, but he worked fast for someone clearly itching for answers. Her bad arm was already bared of the makeshift bandages, revealing an ugly cut that oozed a substance that wasn’t _quite_ blood. Robbie was examining a sewing needle which seemed to be unsatisfactory, judging by his dark muttering.

“Aha! _There’s_ the mystery spirit,” he said, dropping the needle into a small pot of something that _reeked._ Some sort of cleaner, probably. “I don’t suppose you can finally say what’s happened to the poor princess, huh?”

“Robbie, don’t antagonize them. Link, do explain.”

Link explained in jerky, utilitarian sign, their eyes on the ugly wound. It felt _wrong,_ standing so close—and Zelda had never felt _wrong,_ not even when her terror spilled into their mind or her frustration became overpowering. Now… it was faint, but Link swore they felt Yiga influence. 

“I’ve studied the technological history of our people, but that—well, that’s _new,”_ said Robbie after a moment. “I don’t suppose they could have waited to do all this until _after_ I was done with my pet project—ow!”

Purah had whacked his shoulder with her lightest book (still a rather large one). “We have other things to focus on than the medallion! So far, there’s not a lot that can alleviate the burns from the thorns, but maybe in here…”

Link stood to the side at the foot of Zelda’s—technically, Purah’s—bed, letting the two scientists quibble over which path to take. They worriedly smoothed a patch of blanket over her legs, noting that Zelda’s brow creased slightly at the touch. Was she in pain?

Link lightly smacked their own forehead. Of _course_ she was in pain—not that they could stop it beyond keeping the two people who… somewhat knew what they were doing on track. That was all.

Zelda frowned again, just barely, and Link _knew_ they heard a pained noise. Was it _just_ pain from her arm and from the rough riding? Or was it one of those mortal things Link had never experienced—what was the term? Ah. 

_I hope you’re not having nightmares, Zelda…_

—

_The day the queen died, the sun dawned pale and sickly over Hyrule, as if mimicking her frail condition. The very air held its breath as she drew it in shakily through thin lips. The very streets of Castle Town stilled as if caught in amber—and within the castle, all the living were frozen in stone._

_Waiting._

_Waiting._

_Would she make it?_

_Zelda the younger was not allowed to see for herself. She was expected to remain at her daily routine, to dutifully pray and follow her studies, to eat what was cooked for her and mind her elders._

_What should have been expected of her and what was_ actually _expected of her were two different thoughts, so she had quite a few elders around to mind._

_Zelda transcribed another small passage from the Zoran children’s book her tutor wished her to read fluently by the end of the week, tilting the book up to lean its weight on a heavy vase of flowers so her hands were free. Her movements were leaden, sluggish—she knew something was wrong. Her father simply wouldn’t let her see… what if something happened to her mother, and Zelda never got to say goodbye?_

_A tiny, intricate paper glider landed square in the middle of Zelda’s scratch paper, interrupting her thoughts. She brushed it towards the shelter of her propped-up book as if shooing a fly and unfolded it, scanning the blocky Sheikah writing within._

I can help you see her. Give me a signal, that’s all. 

_The note was unsigned, but Zelda knew the writing well. She re-folded the glider with clumsy fingers—she mucked up some of the creases, but that was alright—and pretended to sneeze, tucking the glider into her sleeve so her guards wouldn’t see when they glanced over._

_“Bless you, Princess.” There was her most senior guard, a woman who had spent the last six years of her career in charge of the princess—and every year where said princess could toddle chasing after her._

_“Thank you,” said Zelda, only eyeing the upper levels of the library after her guard had turned back around. The glider had been folded in a way that would make it fly quite far, but from where-_

_Another glider dropped, and this time, Zelda knew it came from behind her. The new note read, “towards the metal bookcase.”_

_Zelda heard a light_ pop, _like a bubble had burst, and chanced a look. The two guards from the detail ensuring she stayed in place still stood, still stared at nothing._

_At nothing? They were meant to be attentive…_

_Then Zelda saw the slight dusting of yellowish powder across their nose and almost giggled. Impa got craftier every day. She slipped off of her bench silently, gingerly, with as much care as her pudgy limbs could muster, and tiptoed past the guards towards the bookshelves. As if by magic, one of them swung open on oiled hinges—pushed from the inside._

_A hand wrapped in Sheikah-made gloves stuck out, beckoning, and Zelda took it._

_Impa’s face greeted her from behind the bookshelf, pale in the dim, rocky tunnel. She held a finger to her lips and closed the bookshelf._

_“Just wait,” she whispered, her voice barely a hiss in the dark. Zelda had never been able to get hers_ quite _that near-silent._

_A moment later, a series of small pops like fireworks heard from a distance sounded from inside the library, and shouts from surprised guards went up immediately after._

_Cries of “the Princess is missing!” and “not again—find her, quickly!” were followed by the tramp of footprints as the search began. They faded quickly—they must have thought she escaped the actual room somehow._

_“Deku nuts make a stunning powder when you grind them up,” explained Impa, “and Purah was happy to supply some of her less experimental firecrackers. She got the notes to you, too. Let’s-“_

_“But—won’t Papa be mad at you? And your mama, she doesn’t like when you help me break the rules.”_

_Impa stopped in the process of peering through the tiniest crack in the bookshelf to turn back and give Zelda a rare hug._

_“They will,” she murmured, “but it’s_ your _mama that’s sick, and you deserve to know if she’s okay or not. Me and Purah don’t care about the trouble if it means helping you—besides, who can stop Purah from doing what she wants?”_

_The last point got a tiny giggle from Zelda, which seemed to satisfy Impa._

_“Remember, extra sneaky,” she said, taking Zelda’s hand again to guide her. “Let’s go.”_

_Their journey through the shadowed corners of back hallways of the castle was a familiar one to Zelda—normally. Today, it seemed the air was getting colder as they went along, curling sluggishly around her limbs and threatening to freeze them solid. The closer Zelda got to the tower where her mother lay, the less her body wanted to continue—but her mind pushed on, her desperation to see the queen overwhelming any other inhibition._

_The final leg of the journey would be through another secret passage, this one discovered by Impa herself a year before. Hyrule Castle was riddled with the things from years past, and most were long-forgotten enough (or never spoken about outside of whichever royal had installed them) that they made good hidey-holes._

_(Especially for children, as some of them were half-collapsed and too small for adults)._

_“In here,” Impa hissed, inching painting away from the wall on clever hinges and helping Zelda step up into the passage beyond. “You remember this one, right?”_

_“Climb the fallen flagstones and go left,” Zelda recited under her breath. This particular passage curled around the tower and emptied into a crawl space above the queen's sickbed—normally, a spare room for royalty other than the king and queen, but the queen had been quarantined away from her typical room._

_“Then-“_

_Suddenly, Impa stiffened and went still as stone, listening to something Zelda could not hear. She pushed Zelda fully into the passageway and closed the painting with only a “shush!” to clarify the sudden panic._

_Only when she had sat there stunned for several seconds did Zelda hear the footsteps._

_Did she wait for Impa, or did she continue? The two urges warred within her, slowed by the cold that seemed to seep into her very bones—but Zelda could not leave her best friend behind. She edged as close as she dared to the dusty back of the painting, ignoring the spiders that skittered about in the drafty passage behind her in favor of remaining stock-still._

_“Impa? What in Hylia’s name are you_ doing _up here? None but the king and Chief Urbosa are to enter, and you know it.”_

_“I—I merely thought to get news. For the princess. She’s so worried, Mother, it’s only fair-“_

_Lady Nikala. Impa’s mother had arrived—and with her, potential doom for Zelda’s mission._

—

Link had gotten better at tracking mortal habits as he traveled with Zelda. Too late into the night and mortals tended to get dizzy, irritable, or otherwise confused, and they might even pass out standing up. Mortals needed food and water often, couldn’t do too much physical activity before requiring rest, and tended to get snippy when denied those things for too long. 

Purah and Robbie, therefore, _must_ have been spirits in disguise. They broke _every_ rule Link had concluded was universal.

“Midnight? Hm. I’ll make that wake-up tea,” said Purah, ignoring Link’s return from tending to the horses. She didn’t seem tired at all, though clearly she had been up for much longer than she should. 

“Weakling! _I’ve_ already got a test sample ready, _and_ I’ve completely stabilized Zelda’s condition,” declared Robbie. 

“Then why hasn’t she woken _up?”_

“That’s—you don’t know why, either!”

Link stood in the corner, forgotten, and watched each scientist toss ideas—and occasionally bookmarked tomes for research—back and forth at each other. Robbie disappeared upstairs periodically (“Gotta check that telescope, can’t have the town guard on us!”) and Purah flitted between her desk and checking on Zelda, frowning deeper each time she came back down. 

“She should be waking up,” she muttered, angrily adjusting her curious glasses. “I don’t like this…”

Link coughed to get her attention, suddenly in possession of _two_ things to say. _“I should say—he/him for me as of a minute ago, and… are mortals not meant to stay asleep for so long after passing out?”_

“Noted, and no, not usually,” said Purah after a moment. “I guess you wouldn’t know, huh? It’s not healthy. She’s _definitely_ under the influence of something or another, almost certainly the same substance as the thorns. I just… don’t quite know how to combat that.”

_“Zelda’s not unlike me,”_ said Link, but he stopped when Purah frowned at the sign. 

“Z-know? Wh—oh,” she said, smacking her own forehead. “You gave her a sign name! That’s actually quite sweet, I like it.”

Link smiled slightly, but it was gone quickly. _“Zelda’s not unlike me as I am now—spiritlike soul, mortal body. She’s much closer to mortal, is all. I’ve been hurt by the thorns before, and recovered.”_

“You _have?_ Why didn’t you say so!” Purah blurted, fumbling the papers she held. “I’m going to need some of your blood, my friend, maybe hair—how did it happen? When? How long did it take you to wake up? What was used—no, wait, I need paper-“

_For Zelda,_ Link reminded himself as Purah steered him towards her workstation, jabbering all the way. _She won’t get better without this… at least you can still help in_ some _way._

Unfortunately, Purah was too busy to have much to do with him after her rather intense interrogation, and Link was once again left to his own devices. Out to the horses he went, but they were tired—even the ever-ravenous Thunder had trouble properly mowing the backyard, so Link had to leave them be. 

The night dragged on. Zelda did not wake. Link stayed outside, by the warped apple tree which housed several curious beetles, and watched the stars crawl by. He never grew tired of those brilliant dots of light spinning around the heavens normally, but now… now they glittered coldly, like Zelda’s skin against his had been. 

_Wisdom’s ice,_ whispered the wilds, quieter than Link had heard them in quite some time. They were right, of course. There was a reason Naydra, Dragon of Wisdom, froze everything in her path. Not that Link _knew_ the reason, but he did know that Naydra and ice were permanently intertwined. Every spirit knew of the Triforce and more or less knew where it was. Wisdom, the royal family’s relic… corrupted as Naydra was by the Yiga, poisoned as Zelda had been by the same—it was no wonder the ice was seeping through. 

It threatened to freeze Link, too, if he wasn’t careful. 

_Danger,_ muttered the wilds with disapproval. 

The stars continued to slip by on their own time. Zelda did not wake. Link had met Naydra multiple times, and gotten precious few words from her. She was the most contemplative of all the dragons, and the least talkative. When she _did_ talk, it was always in riddles that turned out to be sage advice. 

_I wonder what Naydra would say to all this,_ Link though idly. Something wise about how to keep everyone safe, most likely, but what was the best way to do that? 

_Hide,_ said the wilds morosely. They were right, Link just wasn’t sure what to do beyond “don’t leave the lighthouse” and “don’t let on that Purah and Robbie have guests”. It occurred to him that Purah and Robbie decidedly were _not_ the type of people to keep horses in their backyard—Epona and Thunder would be dead giveaways that something was off. 

_You must leave and hide,_ he called down to them. Thunder looked up and snorted rebelliously, unwilling to leave his tasty grass so soon after a terrifying ride. _I mean it. You could be injured, or spotted._

Epona snorted, reaching out to nip (Thunder dodged just in time). _She_ understood and respected the risk, at least. Link was positive Thunder would look a Yiga in the eye and kick it, then go right back to eating. 

_If you go now, I’ll personally ensure you have a lifetime supply of the tastiest grass I can grow,_ Link promised Thunder. _That_ finally got his message through, so Link watched both horses trot down the hill to hide somewhere outside of Hateno. He’d long since removed their tack—they could both pass as wild horses, and he knew anyone who tried to tame them would probably leave with broken bones. They would be fine. 

Granted, that left Link with no company besides the wilds and the stars. 

The stars kept twinkling distantly.

The wilds hummed. 

The noises from the lighthouse below petered out as Purah and Robbie (presumably) went to bed. 

And Zelda did not wake. 

So Link let the time slide by without a single coherent thought—that is, until Purah jarred him out of it.

“Ah, _here’s_ where you’ve been hiding!”

Link looked down, having been savoring the salty breeze from the very top of the lighthouse. Purah squinted up at him, rubbing at the bags under her eyes as she did despite having been asleep for the past hour. Link wasn’t _totally_ sure how much sleep typical mortals (or Purah and Robbie) needed, but evidently it was more than that.

“Can I climb up?”

Link shrugged and braced himself, extending an arm towards Purah. Her weight was practically nothing versus his strength, even if she yelped and reflexively tried to jerk away. 

“If there was any doubt left in my mind about your identity, that just fixed it,” she said, rotating her shoulder briefly. “You’re too skinny to do that normally. Up here thinking? Ruminating on the ways of us mortals?”

Link snorted. _“In a way.”_

Purah’s smile was a _little_ too bright for Link’s taste. “I gotta know, how _did_ the Yiga get close enough to do that to Zelda? As—essentially—her older sister, I’m… _curious.”_

_Careful,_ whispered the wilds. 

Link stiffened slightly. Was _every_ Sheikah woman he ran into on this mission going to be threatening? Still… Purah deserved the truth. _“My fault. I didn’t move fast enough, and now I cannot help.”_

The _look_ in Purah’s eyes didn’t fade, but her falsely-cheery smile did. “I see. You’re really powerless here, aren’t you?”

Link bristled. _“Not totally. I can warn us if danger approaches, I can tell you more about the Yiga, I can-“_

“But you can’t heal Zelda.”

And there it was. Link had never been a _healing_ spirit. He could bless things, and sometimes the good luck from those blessings resulted in fewer wounds, but no healing. The wilds simply didn’t do that. He’d never considered it much of a failing, being powerful in other ways, but now… 

_“No,”_ he admitted, shoulders slumping. _“Not outright. I… am out of my depth.”_

The words felt strange to sign—giving meaning to the odd guilt that had been bouncing around in his chest didn’t sit right with Link. 

“Did that physically hurt to sign?” Purah said quizzically. When Link gave her a side-eye, she backpedaled. “I mean—sorry. I guess I’m overprotective. It’s just… you looked strange, admitting you can’t heal her.”

_“It’s been a very long time since I was powerless in the face of a challenge.”_

“If it helps… I get it.”

_“You’re mortal, though,”_ said Link, confused. _“There are always challenges for you. I am a spirit.”_

“You think mortals are _supposed_ to feel helpless or something? You think spirits just… can’t?”

Link raised his hands. Lowered them. In the end, he said nothing. 

“Yeah…” said Purah, staring out at the ocean for a moment. “There are times when I feel on top of the world, and times where I feel about as powerful as an underwater candle. Like… right now. Me and Robbie, we’re good at our jobs—but we’re not _that_ kind of doctor, Link. We’re on about the same level as you when it comes to healing. It might not _mean_ much to you, but I do get it.”

Link couldn’t remember the last time a fellow spirit had tried to level with him like that—mostly because the others _also_ couldn’t remember feeling powerless. They rarely got so tied-up in mortal affairs outside of their domains. 

_“Truce?”_ he said eventually, extending a hand to Purah. 

“Truce,” she said, shaking it solemnly. “I don’t blame you… now. Before—I wasn’t so sure. It’s been a long month-ish. But now I know you’re only here to help, so thank you, and… I apologize.”

_“You’re forgiven,”_ said Link reassuringly. He couldn’t hold it against her—Purah was right, anyway, and she was looking out for her surrogate family. As a spirit often lauded for blessing strong chosen bonds, he could hardly argue. 

_I’d probably do the same for Zelda by now, anyway._

—

_Zelda pressed a pudgy hand to her mouth to keep from making a noise. Impa was covering for her in the face of Lady Nikala as if it were nothing—as if she were merely catching a spider! Lying to the matriarch of the Sheikah as if she were an actress in a summer play!_

_“You know you cannot,” said Lady Nikala imperiously. When had her voice gotten so close to the painting? Zelda edged away carefully, deeper into the passageway. “It seems, by your mission, that you are not aware the Princess has run off again. Have you any idea how far she may have gotten up to this room?”_

_“She escaped her guards again?”_

_Had Zelda not been stressed to the point of tears, she almost would have laughed at Impa’s audacity._

_“Yes. I hurt for her as much as you do, daughter, but with the queen… incapacitated, the King’s word is as good as Our Lady’s, and we cannot refuse his decree. You know her hiding spots.”_

_The last sentence was said with disapproval, a reminder of the times Impa had gotten away with—and gotten caught—helping Zelda do as she pleased._

_“She hasn’t gotten far, not without help,” said Impa, but Lady Nikala’s voice—closer still to the painting—cut her off._

_“She_ had _help. Purah has been caught with the dust on her fingers already,” she said, stern voice near vibrating with anger._

_Zelda’s blood, already cold, went as chill as smoking ice. She inched backwards, hitting the frozen stone, and internally screamed at her limbs to move-_

_“I will not bow to the every whim of a king who refuses his daughter basic needs this way! Mother, I respect the royal family, and I love Our Lady, but this has gone too far. The princess doesn’t deserve to be kept separate from her mother, no one else has caught the queen’s ailment-“_

_“You will listen, Impa! We are Sheikah, and we do not disobey the line of Hylia!”_

Do-not-linger-find-the-queen

_Lady Nikala sounded as close to yelling as Zelda could imagine the stoic Sheikah woman being, which finally shattered the ice under her skin and galvanized her. She could no longer wait—Impa would be punished for her sake, and it would all be for naught if Zelda could not make it to the queen._

_To her mother._

_So she climbed through the crumbling, drafty passageway, leaving behind Impa, Lady Nikala, and a series of teardrops drying on the ground._

_The tiny storage space above the queen’s sickbed room was originally intended merely to house personal items used rarely, like winter clothing. It had doubled as an escape route for paranoid royals, perhaps a hundred years ago—now Zelda stumbled from behind a tattered wall hanging and prayed no one in the room below had heard her clumsy entrance. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and carefully crawled across the rickety floor, knowing some spots weren’t stable._

_“...why you poked around places you_ knew _were dangerous, dearest, when you’re so important in more ways than one.”_

_Zelda froze, recognizing her godmother’s voice._

_“Urbosa… you know I’ve always been stubborn.”_

_Zelda nearly cried. Her mother had never sounded so frail, so weak, while talking to Urbosa. She crept to the edge of the dusty storage space with dreadful slowness, knowing there would be patchy spots near the hidden ladder where she could see through._

_She wished she hadn’t._

_The queen’s normally-shining hair was dull and stringy in its loose braid over her shoulder, and her hand—clutching Urbosa’s like a lifeline—was bony and yellowed. Zelda could have traced her cheekbones from a mile away, and her eyes… they seemed almost hollowed, as if someone or something had stolen their normal spark._

_The tiniest, broken, whisper escaped Zelda’s lips. “Mama?”_

_But her mother did not hear._

—

Satori sometimes called Link a bit of a busybody for his habit of sticking his nose in places and listening to gossip. Link always told him not to listen to the recounted gossip, then, if the habit was so annoying. 

(He continued to listen to it).

The habit reared its head again when Purah returned late that afternoon holding a bowl of blue fire in thick-gloved hands, having covered her glasses with a pair of goggles and her dress with a blacksmith’s apron. Link was the one to let her back in _and_ the one who nearly got bowled over by her busy entrance—lucky him. 

“Sorry! This stuff doesn’t wait!” Purah scurried over to a pronged pedestal to the left of the front door, dumping the contents of the bowl inside. The torch lit with a cobalt flash, nearly blinding Link. 

“I’ve got to keep doing my regular errands, or people might get suspicious,” said Purah, seeing the look on Link’s face. “The watchers never get close, and the telescope blocks their view of the outside stairs—but still.”

Link, however, was less focused on Purah’s oddness and more focused on the blue flame—he _knew_ that power signature. Ancient Sheikah had carried devices with the very same glow on their belts, built towers and shrines and machines with that glow. Why did it resonate so much with him? There was a reason, Link had just forgotten…

“Yes, that’s from the ancient furnace down the hill a ways,” said Purah, not realizing the full depth of Link’s interest. “Robbie and I have been trying to figure out how it was used before our people’s technology was… lost.”

She said the word _lost_ the way most people said _week-old garbage._ Link stepped closer to the blue flame, entranced by the cobalt tongues flicking up at the air like a dance. The power within it buzzed at his prodding, curiously. 

_Power,_ said the wilds. _Old power._

“It’s slow-going, since the flame—well, it’s not _supposed_ to die out, but lately…” Purah sighed, tilting her goggles up and onto her forehead to reveal her tired eyes. “Clearly some outside force is messing with the integrity of my blue flame, and I won’t have it! That stuff is the key to solving the greatest mystery of my career—Link! _What in Hylia’s name are you doing?”_

Link straightened up, not bothering to try and douse the flames now sticking to his hand—and why would he? They didn’t burn. 

Nothing that came from spirit magic _would_ burn him, after all. 

Purah had been rendered speechless, it seemed, watching Link idly let the flames hop from finger to finger without being burned. They flowed the way the dragons flew, gracefully and smoothly, providing gentle warmth wherever they touched. 

The wilds made a contented humming noise.

Link tipped the flame back into the sconce after a little while of that, noting that it took just the _tiniest_ piece of greenish magic from him as it went. Purah seemed to be incapable of speech for the moment, so he decided to explain. 

_“The flame comes from a larger web,”_ he said simply. _“Everything that flame used to fuel tapped into Hyrule’s natural magic—spirit magic.”_

Purah said nothing. 

_“...I was there when your ancestors used it, after all.”_

Still speechless. 

_“Should I have… mentioned that?”_

“Should you—guh—YES!” sputtered Purah, waving her hands about as if trying to swat a fly. _“Yes,_ you should have mentioned that! I—you—I can’t believe I forgot you were _there,_ Goddess! You’re a goldmine!”

Link likened her reaction to Zelda’s when he talked about the Zonai—which wasn’t a _good_ comparison, exactly. _“You… never asked.”_

Purah halted mid-rant. “Ah. Yeah, good point—but I am now! Here, I’ll show you that ‘pet project’ Robbie is so proud of-“

Link kept getting dragged around by these eccentric scientists, but he hadn’t decided if it was a problem or just an inconvenience yet. As it was, Purah didn’t drag him far—just to the ramshackle bookshelves, at which point she released his arm to dig through the scattered piles of books. She popped up a moment later, brandishing a battered wooden box. “Ta-da!”

_“Is it wise to keep a valuable project there?”_ Link asked, watching Purah fiddle with the clasp. 

“Would _you_ look for something valuable in the middle of this mess?” she pointed out. “Everyone expects the secret compartment, no one expects the book pile—here we go.”

The box opened with a gentle _click,_ allowing Purah to stick her hand inside and withdraw… something. Link didn’t focus on it at first and thought it was a cookie, but closer inspection revealed the device to be made of the Sheikah-made ore so prevalent when he was younger. Roughly the size of Purah’s palm and the first inch or so of her fingers, the disk was dark and heavy-looking and decidedly inactive. Link could make out the Sheikah eye etched into it, along with a few faint words, but he couldn’t read the black-on-black text.

“Do you recognize this? Here,” said Purah, setting the box on a precarious stack of books and holding the disk out to Link. “Just be careful with it. If you think _I’m_ protective of my research, you should see Robbie. He’s a little _too_ attached sometimes, I swear…”

Link felt a tiny bit of blood drain from his face—still an alien feeling, even after so long in a mortal body—and nodded, taking the disk gingerly to examine it himself. The back was smooth, unadorned with writing, but the front… he squinted, examining the writing. Some had been damaged by the passage of time, though the device itself was probably fine if Sheikah craftsmanship was as good as the old artists used to boast. 

_Teleportation Medallion,_ read the legible text. _Part X-12._

Link handed back the medallion to Purah, who awaited an answer with gleaming eyes. _“Your ancestors used those to travel across great distances. I was surprised by a trick with them—once.”_

“That so?” Purah set the medallion back in its box and produced her notebook from… somewhere. She must have taught Zelda the trick. “We found this in the catacombs of Hyrule Castle, by the way—an earthquake disturbed some of the tunnels and exposed a destroyed laboratory. This was the only intact device we found, though the rubble’s still being sorted through—but! Do continue.”

Link snorted, remembering the ancient Sheikah and their obsession with cataloguing everything—including him. He hadn’t even had a _ghostly_ form, let alone a _solid_ one back then; there was nothing to “photograph.” At least it had been fun to circumvent them. 

_“I had a much smaller domain back then,”_ he began, almost chuckling out loud when Purah started scribbling. Link let himself get lost in memories of the time one of those medallions had been left atop Mount Hylia, waiting to activate until he settled there briefly to watch the desert (a Sheikah researcher had used its twin to materialize right next to him—Link had accidentally caused a minor avalanche as a result, and the researcher in question was lucky to have survived). 

Zelda was still sick, he knew. But this way, he could help _someone._ Besides, if he _did_ help get the medallion working—and Link was sure he could get the blue flame to take if he tried—and Zelda woke up, she’d be overjoyed. That would be worth seeing. 

—

_Zelda tried to move, to see if anyone else was in the room or push the rope ladder down so she could run to her mother, but the ice in her blood seemed to have frosted over her limbs. Her mother was the_ queen. _She was infallible, a descendant of Hylia herself, strong and stubborn and-_

_And-_

_And she was_ dying. 

_“I’m… I’m so sorry, dearest. I don’t want to leave you—but-“_

_The queen lurched forward, violent coughs shaking her entire frame as Urbosa held her with trembling arms. “Rhoam. Go get her… please. I know it won’t spread now. Please…”_

_Footsteps from outside of Zelda’s view left the room, fading away after the sound of a door opening and shutting jarred the chilly air._

_“What did you get yourself into? And why won’t you_ tell _me?” Urbosa’s voice shook as she traced lines up and down the queen’s arms soothingly._

_“Zelda.”_

_For a heart-stopping moment, Zelda the younger thought she had been caught—but no, her mother’s eyes only saw Urbosa._

_“She… she has a bigger part in this than I ever wanted, dearest. I was wrong, about the sword, about my research. I thought… I thought I could go stop this before it began… and I can’t tell you where,” rasped the queen, stopping Urbosa before she could speak. “I can’t tell you, dearest, because you’d go rushing in with your lighting and your scimitar and you’d_ die. _I won’t let that happen.”_

_“What could our little bird_ possibly _have to do with what’s stealing your breath? Who would_ dare _involve her?”_

_“She’s a child of the Goddess just as I am, dearest. She will need guiding, one day… I’ll leave her that guidance, for the bigger things,” said the queen weakly. “You’ll need to be there for the smaller ones. I will make sure she knows where to go when the—when-“_

_More coughing overtook the queen’s frame, ending her sentence, and Urbosa cradled her face gently at the end of it._

_“I wish you weren’t so stubborn,” she said lowly, the hint of a sob dangling from the edges of her voice. “And I wish you didn’t know me so well.”_

_“What I leave will be safe within these walls, with the rest of my research. I trust that my writings will be kept,” rasped the queen, her voice so weak it was nearly inaudible. “I cannot risk… she will grow up here, find what she needs here. And I… can rest easier… knowing I have helped.”_

Useless-memory-who-has-the-map!

_“My love…”_

_“I wish I got a chance to—to say goodbye to the others, at least,” said the queen. “The spirits are my friends, dearest… they’ll feel it when I’m finally gone.”_

_Zelda could no longer stand it. Her mother’s words shattered the ice holding her limbs in place and she shoved the rope ladder, half-climbing and half-falling down the dusty, fraying braids of linen. She darted for her mother’s bed before either woman in the room could register what was happening._

_“Little bird, how did-“ Urbosa scanned the ceiling, visibly confused, but Zelda had already fallen into her mother’s arms. Zelda clung to the thin fabric shrouding her mother’s thin chest and openly wept, the tears only falling harder when the queen weakly tried to hug her back._

_“Oh, my baby, how did you…” the queen trailed off, her own tears falling to mingle with her daughter’s. “Never mind. You’ve always been so clever…”_

_Zelda felt Urbosa’s comforting hand on her shoulder distantly, as if through several layers of cloth. The chill in her blood crept to her heart, numbing her skin—and where her forehead met the side of her mother’s neck, her skin_ burned _like smoking ice. Time itself seemed caught in the ice as she sobbed, the very life within that tiny room falling into stasis._

_Wait._

_Everything_ was _frozen. Zelda could not hear or feel her mother’s weak heartbeat or Urbosa’s gentle breathing—what she_ could _hear was her own heartbeat, thudding in her ears with a distant boom like an avalanche muffled by snowfall._

_“M-Mama?” Zelda looked up, shocked to see her mother’s face stuck in its sorrowful expression and not moving an inch. Most hauntingly, a single tear was frozen in its path down her sallow cheek, suspended against the skin as if halted by an unseen hand._

_Then Zelda understood. Everything_ was _frozen—but not in ice. In time._

_Time had not stopped the day her mother died, though it had felt like it._

Go-back-find-the-king

_Her limbs had not turned to ice, the edges of her vision had not gone fuzzy as if frost swirled around them._

Find-the-map-she-will-notice-soon!

_Something was dreadfully,_ horribly _wrong._

Unimportant-she-can-do-nothing

_But what?_

Neither-can-we-the-king-does-not-know

_And what were those voices?_

—

“I don’t like that we haven’t had any visitors recently,” said Purah over what _should_ have been breakfast for her and Robbie, but was really more like lunch. “You _know_ how jumpy the major is around royal business. Where are the weekly _rug salesmen?”_

Though Link didn’t happen to be looking at Purah as she spoke—the diagrams doodled on the ceiling were fascinating—he could almost _sense_ the air quotes she put around “rug salesmen”. Used to her mannerisms already, he chose to focus on the “visitors” part. _“Who?”_

“Mayor thinks we’re up to no good and defying the king,” said Robbie, answering before Purah could (in his defense, she had a mouthful of toast at the time). “He’s right, of course, but I don’t appreciate the accusations!”

“We’re too close to the princess, everyone in the kingdom—well, everyone Hylian—knows that,” said Purah, busily swallowing another bite of her toast and reaching for the bacon. Link felt slightly awkward, not eating when both of his companions were clearly ravenous, but he could get over it. “I figured coming out to the boondocks with our research under the guise of looking into the ancient furnace would be a good enough excuse, but the local government got a _bit_ wise.”

Purah _had_ said she was being watched, back at the beginning of his and Zelda’s “visit”. Link had forgotten in his concern for Zelda.

“They don’t want us to get wise to _them_ getting wise, though, so we just get a lot of pushy door-to-door salesmen,” said Robbie matter-of-factly. “The ruse might work if they didn’t use people that _everyone_ knows are retired military. I might not have grown up here, but I’ve worked at the castle for a few years—I know what a soldier looks like.”

“Normally we’d have had one sometime yesterday,” supplied Purah, “but… nothing. Think we’ve finally convinced the mayor we’re law-abiding citizens who totally believe that the princess committed treason?”

“There’s enough people in this town who _don’t_ believe the decree to make me say no, we haven’t convinced him,” said Robbie. He spotted the confused look on Link’s face and elaborated. “You think everyone in this country is a sheep? ‘Bout half the army alone’s been refusing to engage in searches for you two, and the citizens—well, I’ve got sources in Akkala and Eldin. Not a lot of people are willing to just accept their princess is wanted dead or alive.”

That was both relieving and concerning. _“I don’t know the king’s personality well—just gossip about him. Is this… in character?”_

Purah sighed heavily. “If you ask _me_ it is, but I’ve never liked the king. We Sheikah are supposed to follow the royal family blindly—but… well, he was never really kind to _Zelda,_ and _she’s_ the one with Hylia’s blood, not him. That’s probably why my little sister let her run off with you, and why my mother didn’t turn you in.”

“I don’t think His Majesty is _terrible_ as a ruler, but this is a stupid move, and he’s not stupid,” said Robbie, waving his fork for emphasis. “Something’s up with him, and I don’t know what.”

“Last I saw him, he was… strange,” said Purah, frowning and swirling her glass of water around thoughtfully. “He got angry after the queen died, more—distant, I guess, and cold. I don’t know what it was that my instincts thought were so wrong. He was acting the exact same.”

“You’ve hated the king ever since he let your mother keep you and your sister under house arrest for a year,” Robbie pointed out. “Sure it isn’t just that?”

“You haven’t been around the royal family as long as I have,” countered Purah. “Where were _you_ the day the queen died? Akkala? I was in the castle itself.”

“Yeah, helping the princess escape her minders.”

“She was—you know what? I won’t talk about it,” said Purah, taking a deep breath (and a decisive bite of bacon). “I’ll just start yelling. That was a bad day for everyone.”

Link sighed a little, remembering. It _had_ been a bad day for everyone—spirits included. He still swore a little bit of the hollow feeling somewhere around his core remained… though it _had_ faded slightly, traveling with Zelda. 

“You must have felt it, huh?”

Link looked up. Robbie was showing rare concern, though it was a bit hard to tell through his goggles. _“All spirits did. It was… not pleasant.”_

An understatement, but he _really_ didn’t want to elaborate. The tearful bellows of Naydra still rang in his ears sometimes. Wisdom’s ice was not to be trifled with normally, but when it _grieved_ the way the queen’s death had prompted—nothing could escape its pain. 

“Well,” said Purah eloquently, after the table had been silent long enough to get awkward. “Link, there’s actually something I’ve been meaning to ask you about spirit curses.”

Link rolled his eyes good-naturedly, prompting a snort from Robbie.

“I know we’ve both been interrogating you a bit, but this has to do with Zelda,” said Purah. “Can spirit curses be broken?”

_“You think the poison is a curse?”_ Link considered it an interesting theory, and inwardly smacked himself for not thinking of the possibility. That _could_ be why he sensed Yiga around Zelda… 

“I know the Yiga sure aren’t totally mortal anymore,” said Purah. “The _weird_ bits of them have got to be spirit bits, in a way, so…?”

Link thought about it for a moment and slumped. _“Yes, curses can be broken, but… usually only by the caster, and that one’s either dead or out of our reach.”_

“You said usually,” said Robbie, eagle-eyed as ever. “The other way would be…?”

_“A blessing, of course,”_ said Link. _“Enough positive energy to cancel out the negative.”_

Silence reigned for a moment, then Link realized what he’d just said and _actually_ smacked himself. How stupid was he—the spirit famous for spreading blessings like candy, and he hadn’t once considered doing it for Zelda!

But the excitement faded a moment later when Link realized _why_ the notion hadn’t really crossed his mind.

“So you _can_ do something, maybe?” Purah’s eyes were gleaming with excitement, and Link hated to extinguish it. 

_“Hard maybe. She’s… not within my domain,”_ he admitted. _“It’s much easier to bless things than to curse them when they don’t apply to you, but still. I’d have to push extremely hard just to make a generic good-luck blessing go through with her—and even then, I might not be able to help.”_

“But you could _try,”_ said Robbie. “We certainly aren’t doing more than keeping her stable right now—she won’t wake up without whatever’s in her system going away. Nothing happens if nothing is given, as my old man used to say. What would you need?”

Link stopped for a moment, unsure. _“I don’t know if trying is worth it when it’s likely I’ll fail.”_

“But what if you don’t?” challenged Purah. “What would happen if you failed?”

Link swallowed and said nothing. He would be hopelessly drained of power from trying to push his magic on something not within his domain—and Zelda would be left under the poison’s influence, maybe even made worse. 

“I know, as a spirit and a mortal, that you and I aren’t going to have the same level of understanding on some things,” said Purah. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but… you’re not used to failure, are you? You’re not used to that potential being so _real._ Here’s something every mortal knows—we fail eventually. We die. You know what we do with that information?”

“We keep going,” supplied Robbie, when Link remained wordless. “We keep trying. You’re in a mortal body now, O Spirit, so start acting like us. For her sake.”

“Her” didn’t refer to Purah. 

_“If I fail, I could do real damage,”_ said Link weakly.

“And if you succeed?”

_“Zelda wakes,”_ said Link, and in an instant, his mind was made up. _“I need time. The rest of the day, probably. I need to be in the wilds.”_

“Good,” said Purah. “Go do that—but don’t get spotted!”

—

_Zelda wriggled out of her mother’s grip and stepped away from the bed, shaking at the eerie stillness and chill in the room. Six years old she may have been, but wisdom beyond her years said something was dreadfully wrong—but no, she wasn’t six. She was seventeen, seventeen and dressed in leather armor and sturdy boots, seventeen and hearing voices that sent a chill worse than the memory through her._

Fool-she-noticed!

_“Yiga,” Zelda breathed, frantically looking for the source—but no one was there besides the frozen figures of her mother and Urbosa. Her trembling hands reached for the doorknob and yanked, providing a view of the frozen guards and—and-_

_Her father, with fury and grief in equal measures coloring his stern features, though he was just as frozen as her mother._

_Her father, King Rhoam, with a ghostly red aura around his head that_ reeked _of Yiga._

—

Link got as far into the wilds as he could—which was to say, he paraglided down from the lighthouse and landed right in the middle of the _tiny_ forest there—and laid down in the soft grass, focusing on controlling his breathing. He called for the wilds, and they answered. 

_Rest,_ they said soothingly. _Rest and gather power._

A young buck, strong and territorial, wandered over with a snort to the interloper. A mental prod from Link told him that this was no threat, so he whuffled gently and settled down, content to nibble the grass. Link cracked open his eyes at some point to find that a couple of Hightail Lizards had decided his chest made a great sunning rock, and that a beetle was happily nesting in his hair. A juvenile fox crept from the bushes and decided his outstretched leg would make a good headrest. 

_Breathe._

Link sighed, letting all the air in his lungs flow in and out. 

_Listen._

The animals made noises, yes, but so did the plants, so did the air, so did the very dirt beneath him. The land breathed with him, the dormant-yet-living streams of blue flame far belowground pulsing in time with his heartbeat. 

_We hear you,_ said the wilds. _And our power is yours._

—

_Zelda dragged in a lungful of air that felt like inhaling snow, backing up instinctively before she realized her father could not see her. The aura around his head, red as blood, certainly could._

Keep-her-down

She-must-not-wake

_“How are you in my head?” Zelda demanded, her tongue moving as slowly as if she had just licked an icicle. “What is this? Why make me relive this day?”_

You-shall-not-win

Our-lord-gave-us-life

And-we-shall-return-the-favor

_“You mentioned… a map.”_

You-shall-not-find-it

Silence-fool-do-not-tell-her!

_Zelda frantically ran through the options from her now-crystal recollection of the horrible day. The Yiga had been frantic to find… a map, yes, but to where? Of what? A map her mother had made?_

_Then it hit her—the queen was_ constantly _drawing maps and writing down her findings, including many spirit-sensitive facts. The Yiga had wanted to “find the queen” and had become frustrated when no precise location made itself known._

_But…_

_“Safe within these walls,” her mother had said._

_Whatever she needed was in Hyrule Castle, with the rest of the queen’s writings, and the Yiga_ knew _it was in the castle. They just didn’t know where—but if they could get in and search, if they found it before Zelda did…_

I have to wake up. I have to wake up!

—

It was nightfall before Link finally felt all the power he could muster flowing through his veins, all the power he could safely hold in his mortal shell. It was nearly as much as he’d had at the beginning of the journey—hopefully, it would be enough. He took one last stabilizing breath and stood (carefully, so as not to disturb his friends too much). He’d have to go around the hill a bit, but he was certain it would be easy to avoid people. 

Out of the forest, over a fence, past a pond and some amicable sheep, and Link had made it to the base of the hill. He could see the lighthouse innocently gleaming through the twilit gloom—“no fugitives here!” it seemed to say. 

Then the clinking of metal caught his ears and Link automatically shrunk back into the shadows, looking for the source—oh. 

The central square of Hateno was bustling—but not with merchants and passerby as it normally did. Instead, armor glinted in the torchlight and the last rays of the sun, from a dozen—no, several dozen—Hyrulean soldiers, all armed and looking like they waited only for orders. 

_Bad. Very bad._ Link double-timed it up to the lighthouse, frantic to warn the others and heal Zelda so they could find a way to escape. 

If there even _was_ a way to escape. 

—

_Zelda pushed past the ice in her blood and shouldered past the frozen bodies of the guards and her father, sprinting down steps that seemed to stretch into oblivion. No matter how fast she ran or how many steps she outright leapt down, they never ended. She couldn’t reach the bottom._

Cannot-escape-a-nightmare!

Will-never-find-the-sword-OW!

Fool-do-not-mention-that!

_Zelda made note of the sword comment and kept running, curious to find that she didn’t get tired—but the tower steps simply didn’t end. She just kept running in a downward spiral, never leaving._

Useful-parasite-huh-princess?

_“Is that how you’re in my head?” Zelda snapped, hardly slowing her pace. The Yiga actually_ laughed, _a horrible, grating sound like nails on a chalkboard._

You-cannot-defy-us-now

You-are-trapped

_“Not if I have anything to say about it,” growled Zelda._

You-do-not

_“I will if it means staring your ‘Lord’ in the eye and punching him. I will get out!”_

—

_“Trouble,”_ was all Link signed when he burst through the door, but he was slightly late with the information—Robbie was already wearing _armor,_ and Purah looked quite ready to kill someone with a glare alone. 

“We’re aware,” she said shortly, hopping from foot-to-foot nervously. “Get upstairs, quickly!”

_“How will we escape this?”_

“I’m working on it. Go!”

Link needed no further prompting to practically _teleport_ to the second floor and get to Zelda, whose brow was still scrunched up in pain where she lay. Her hand was more like a block of ice when Link gently took hold of it, scaring him for a moment, but her chest rose and fell still. 

_Let this work,_ he prayed, though it had been over a month since Hylia or the golden goddesses responded. _Let me do this._

So he gripped Zelda’s hand like a lifeline and gently, gingerly pressed his forehead to hers, relaxing to let his magic flow. 

It fought. Of _course_ it fought him, for Zelda was not a wild animal or a stable or someone who had helped either of those things. Minor blessings went through for people not under his domain—but a massive one like this… Link pushed back, not giving a single inch. 

_I bless you,_ he said, even as his magic grew thorns and dug into his soul, refusing to let go.

_May luck follow you,_ he said, even as every inch he pushed the thorns away dragged burning lines through his insides like swallowing acid. 

_May the wilds guide your heart,_ he said, even as the flow of magic sputtered like a broken water pump and slowly, _slowly,_ inched through his skin to Zelda’s. 

_And may your weapons never fail you when you need them,_ he said, finally, _finally_ forcing the dam to break, forcing every ounce of power he’d accumulated to flow and put his blessing at work. He remembered Zelda’s delighted laugh when she finally heard spirit-talk on purpose and pushed that image forward. _This is what I want. I bless you._

Something _cracked,_ deep in his soul where no healing could reach, but Link hardly noticed. 

—

_Zelda didn’t get physically fatigued, sprinting down that endless stairwell, but her mind grew tired of the endless jabs from the Yiga and the monotony of her path._

You-will-not-escape

_“I will,” she said dizzily, the fire in her voice dimming. “I will.”_

_But she wasn’t so sure anymore as the ice continued to creep. Her steps slowed, the freezing effect that had taken the rest of her family finally spreading to her. Zelda fought like a tiger to yank her legs free—but her arms had it too, slow and lethargic and-_

_A single snowflake drifted across her vision. Unlike the aura of the Yiga, it didn’t feel hostile—and unlike her own mind, it didn’t feel friendly. It simply_ was. 

_Frost—real, glittering, cold, and_ bright, _so bright—curled along the edges of the stairwell, coating the steps in shimmering ice. More snowflakes drifted down, separating Zelda and the Yiga and icicles sprouted from the ceiling. Zelda skidded to a stop, shivering violently as the ice and snow curled around her. Protectively? As a trap? She didn’t know._

_Her boots were frozen to the ground, she noticed. Zelda couldn’t think clearly enough to care._

Shut-down-by-your-own-element! _cackled the Yiga._

So-ironic

Mortal-immune-systems-are-pathetic

_Zelda pulled weakly at the ice holding her still and found she could not break it. Her limbs and skin were so beyond cold that she no longer felt_ anything, _which was almost a relief. She didn’t want to feel the tears fall down her face._

_Then-_

—

Link felt the blessing take and fell backwards, utterly spent, watching his magic curl around Zelda’s hands and head.

—

_Green. Green magic, so out of place in the chilly, gray stairwell. It reached out for her, sprouting vines that cracked the ice and mushrooms that banished the cold and glimmering Silent Princesses that muted the Yiga._

—

_Don’t sleep,_ Link told himself, pushing up from the ground with monumental difficulty. Purah burst through the door, but he weakly held up a hand to stop her from disturbing Zelda. 

—

_I bless you, said the magic, and Zelda finally felt the tears on her face and the movement of her limbs. She reached out for the nearest rough vine, gripping tight as it and the magic curled around her protectively, yanking her from the ice and-_

—

“They’re coming up already,” said Purah, brandishing something towards Link with her right hand. Her left held a tiny bowl that gleamed with blue light—the blue flame. “Your help made it possible to activate this thing. Use it now!”

The medallion. Link accepted both the device and Purah’s help to stand, numbly trying to sign. 

“No, take it,” said Purah, her face set. “I should have calibrated it for just outside the Lost Woods—the teleportation of my ancestors was all connected, right? There’s an ancient shrine not far from there. I might not be able to breach the Lost Woods, but you’ll both be safe-“

Suddenly Zelda gasped and sat up, coughing violently. Link had to let Purah go to her—his vision was blurring too much to walk straight. _Don’t sleep._

“Purah? But—I-“ Zelda doubled over again, coughing still. The wound on her arm—exposed from the jostling—now looked like an innocent gash, not the ugly almost-burn it had been. Link relaxed. “How did—where am I?”

“Lab. I’m so _overjoyed_ you’re awake, trust me,” said Purah, giving her a warm embrace that only lasted a moment. “But you have to go. Link, will you be okay?”

_BANG. BANG. BANG._

They all winced at the sound of the first-floor door being “knocked” on. Link heard Robbie yell something incoherent that was _probably_ a string of swear words and nodded, clinging to the travel medallion in shaky hands. Purah held the blue flame out to him, ignoring Zelda’s strangled gasp when he simply let it jump to one hand. 

_Fuel this,_ he told it, more to keep his brain active than anything else. The blue flame leapt into the medallion and lit up each symbol until it gleamed and chimed once—ready for use. 

“That _should_ work,” said Purah worriedly, still clinging to Zelda’s shoulders. “Come on, up. Link can fill you in on what happened.”

“I—okay,” said Zelda, wobbling to her feet. She accepted the bag Purah shoved into her arms without complaint, though she was obviously confused. 

“Your stuff’s in there too,” said Purah to Link, gently pushing Zelda over to him. “Go. We’ll be okay, they don’t have any evidence or anything—but if the spirits go under, so does Hyrule. Go!”

Link looped an arm through Zelda’s—partly for the teleportation, partly to help him stay standing—and pressed the Sheikah eye on the medallion. 

_Travel?_ it hummed. 

_Yes._

Purah’s worried face and the banging from downstairs all dissolved into skeins of cold blue light, until the only thing that was solid was Zelda’s arm in his and the oppressive, heavy exhaustion pressing into Link’s very soul. He could barely spare a single thought of _I hope we make it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to flip tables at me—i mean, what are the odds that Purah actually calibrated the medallion correctly? High, of course, she’s a scientist.... they definitely made it.....


	8. Chapter 8

Link had teleported before, when he didn’t have a body—but it felt  _ nothing  _ like the ancient Sheikah technology did. His version was dissolving into a mind on a breeze, floating across Hyrule faster than any Rito could fly. The  _ Sheikah  _ had made it clinical, cold, and nauseating (though the last bit may have been from his power overuse). The last time Link had felt so disoriented outside of the current crisis had been about eleven mortal years ago—the last time he spoke with Naydra, and the last time he’d paid even a whit of attention to the royal family. 

—

_ The spirit considered herself lucky on that pale, oppressively silent day, to be impervious to cold. The snows atop Mount Lanayru had obeyed Naydra’s call: slicing through the air like daggers of ice to shield the mountain from mortal eyes and mortal interference. Across the land, Dinraal and Farosh wandered their usual paths; only the slightest falter of their flights betrayed the bleak tension. The Lost Woods radiated fear and premature grief to dispel approachers. Satori, almost like normal, did not step into the physical plane. The spring-bound spirits shut their blossoms to any and all mortals, refusing to grant magic even for the greatest sums of rupees.  _

_ “We’re waiting,” Tera had said to those who tried to ask for her help. The spirit had hid in the great skeleton shielding her spring, hoping for better news—to no avail. “Come back when… the situation changes.” _

_ The Gerudo couple who had been entreating her left, and Tera had glanced up to the spirit’s hiding place. “Dear… you can travel. Please, Naydra is horribly unwell. They need company—you remember when the last queen died…” _

_ The spirit did indeed remember that horrible day, and had agreed to Tera’s request readily. _

_ But from where she hovered just over the springwater atop Mount Lanayru… it seemed like a better plan to leave Naydra be. _

I CURSE THEM! _they howled, stirring the storm with grief-stricken rage._ MY CURSE ON THOSE WHO DARE HARM MY CHOSEN!

_ The spirit could sense there was nothing she could say to calm the storm, so she remained where she was. The ghostly form of a Hylian appeared a moment later, watching Naydra’s coils constrict the icy stalagmites as they screeched to the heavens. An hour passed, maybe several, and the storm barely ceased—but Naydra, it seemed, was calming slightly. Their rage was cooling, solidifying into resignation and grief, and it almost hurt to watch them lower their head dejectedly. _

Why do you remain, spirit of the wilds?  _ Naydra hissed, halfheartedly spitting ice in her general direction. The grief seemed to have eliminated the Dragon of Wisdom’s tendency to speak in riddles.  _ Why test my wrath? Why not hide in your forests and wait it out like the rest of our kin?

_ Naydra had not let the spirit speak when she first cut through the storm, but now, it seemed, they were open.  _

Tera asked me to check on you,  _ she said gently.  _ The last queen’s passing was painful. They’re all painful—but for you especially. We’re concerned.

HA!

_ The spirit reeled back, startled by the mental and physical barking laugh that had escaped Naydra.  _

They are all painful, all felt right down to my bones, it is true,  _ said Naydra bitterly,  _ but this one… is far worse. You are lucky to be incorporeal, or my ice would overwhelm you.

Why is it worse?

_ Naydra hissed, pure-white steam dropping from the edges of their mouth and claws.  _ This is no ordinary illness. My chosen has been  _ poisoned,  _ by the very force Hylia swore was destroyed! Power and Courage my chosen might possess, but  _ Wisdom  _ is her most ancient birthright, and I will not stand for such an insult—Nayru herself won’t, either!

_ The spirit went dead still, shocked by the revelation.  _ What makes you think she was poisoned?

I have no concrete proof, it is true,  _ said Naydra sourly.  _ I cannot say for sure—but not even mortals are so fragile as to deteriorate like this, in both body and soul. She has been poking around where no mortal should go… none but whatever poor child Hylia designates as a hero, at any rate, and those days are long gone… 

Then she is truly dying,  _ said the spirit after a long moment. She’d thought—hoped, really—that it wouldn’t happen, that the queen could survive by some miracle… it always hurt when a child of Hylia died. A fellow spirit, part-mortal though they were. _

_ The spirit hated pain. It was a good thing she so rarely felt it.  _

_ Naydra keened weakly, flopping their head down into the water in front of the spirit.  _ She will be gone soon. Her daughter… my next chosen… she will take on such a burden for one so young. And my curse won’t even take, not when I haven’t seen the wrongdoers.

_ The spirit stepped forward hesitantly. When Naydra made no move to spit ice again, she laid a misty hand on the dragon’s burning-cold snout. She felt the chill, but only distantly—what became far more striking in that moment was the  _ pain,  _ the unending spiral of grief and cold fury that nearly sent the spirit reeling backwards.  _

She will be gone…  _ Naydra moaned, letting the spirit try to soothe them.  _ Gone again… I can never hang on to them… 

_ The spirit had nothing to say to that. Naydra had said nothing wrong—they were always right. The queen would die, her daughter would inherit the power of the gods (albeit locked away) and Naydra would remain the only dragon trapped reliving the death of their chosen mortal for the foreseeable future. Dinraal and Farosh were lucky, really, that their chosen rarely reincarnated. The spirit could only wonder what could make the cycle end… surely so much pain was unnecessary.  _

_ But it was not the time to speculate, so she merely stayed by Naydra’s head and did her best to be soothing. An ancient song typically sung for horses warbled into the chill air, almost dancing among the suspended snowflakes and stirring a slightly breeze as it went, trailing the barest hints of green magic.  _

_ The storm still twisted around the peak. But within—within, all was still, frozen, waiting for the ball to drop.  _

_ And when it did, it fell and punched a hole straight through each spirit’s soul.  _

_ Naydra reared their entire body upwards and howled, an earsplitting screech that seemed to cleave the heavens in two. The spirit fell away, their ghostly form dissipating, and fought not to add her voice to the din.  _

_ Naydra continued to howl as the queen’s life slipped through her fingers in faraway Hyrule Castle.  _

_ Naydra continued to howl as their Triforce left the queen and flocked to the sobbing princess.  _

_ Naydra continued to howl as Hyrule Castle ceased to be a beacon of light in every spirit’s eyes. _

_ Even mortals could have heard the din Naydra put up, had they been close enough to the base of Mount Lanayru—but even across the continent, the flashing blue stormclouds were easily visible. The spirit cowered in the springwater, refusing to try and sense Hyrule Castle anymore.  _

_ The pit in her soul smoothed over in the minutes that passed—slowly, roughly, like sandpaper dragged across hardwood—and the spirit resigned herself to several mortal years of that pit being there, until the princess came into her power. It had been that way for her entire life. It would remain that way.  _

_ So why then… why was this one so much rougher? Why was there a new feeling in that pit—not of emptiness, something was  _ there.  _ What new magic had taken its place where the child of Hylia’s power normally rested? What even  _ could,  _ besides another god? _

_ But the feeling faded into the background, and the spirit forgot it was there over time, just as she  _ never _ forgot what a dragon’s fury looked like.  _

—

“-nk? Link, open your eyes, you should see where we are-“

Link forced his eyelids to open, instantly grateful that wherever-he-was happened to be dim (granted, the damp stone under his back was less than nice, but that was fine). Zelda knelt next to him, worry creasing her brow and she leaned over him. 

_ “Hi,”  _ said Link weakly, hoping that the spirit-talk would get through. It didn’t seem to, but Zelda spotted the tiny grin on his lips regardless. 

“Idiot!” Suddenly there was a viselike grip around his shoulders and a warm tunic pressed into his nose. Zelda’s fierce hug was the only thing keeping him sitting upright, which Link appreciated for multiple reasons. “You were unconscious for hours! And—and—you  _ did  _ something, in my head, you got me out and it hurt you,  _ didn’t _ it?”

She pulled back enough to free his hands, and Link made a  _ so-so  _ motion. Zelda groaned. “Don’t be modest,  _ please.  _ I’m grateful for whatever you pulled—but  _ don’t  _ do that again.”

Link nodded along. He didn’t mention that pulling such a trick was likely impossible, since the spot where his power normally hummed was merely a dim flicker. It was a miracle he had even  _ that  _ much left—and he was beginning to suspect his spirit-talk hadn’t even registered as an  _ emotion  _ to Zelda. He tried to push something else as a test to no avail. She didn’t react. 

_ Ah. That’s… not good.  _

_ “A blessing,”  _ he explained with stiff hands, unwilling to explain the conflict currently going on in his head.  _ “Positive energy to outweigh the negative.” _

Zelda blinked incredulously, letting go of his shoulders with some hesitation. “You blessed me? But I’m not within your domain, am I?”

Link shook his head.  _ “You can… force them, though it hurts. I-“ _

He didn’t get to finish, because Zelda had decided to start sputtering. 

“You hurt yourself helping me! Don’t do that!” she said, half indignant and half concerned. “Aren’t  _ I  _ supposed to be the guardian of spirits like you, as Hylia’s descendant?  _ Please,  _ Link.”

Link snorted. “ _ Next time you can just slip away, I guess.” _

His smile faded, the words having been formed before he could think.  _ Pay attention, spirit, you’re not normally this stupid. Not even with all your power drained…  _

Zelda swallowed, her face pale. Had she not known how close she’d been to never waking up? “I… I see. Thank you, Link. I mean it.”

_ I know you do,  _ he wanted to say, but his fingers felt too clumsy to sign. Link settled for a warm smile instead, and a gentle push of  _ you’re welcome  _ through spirit-talk. It still didn’t work, but the sentiment must have showed in his expression.

Zelda smiled too, but it flickered like a candle in a windstorm. “Okay. Now—erm—everything’s a little fuzzy, but wasn’t that Robbie and Purah’s pet project we used to get away? From… Hyrulean soldiers, it must have been. Hylia.”

Link glanced around for the medallion before realizing that it would have remained in the lab after usage, keeping the link—yes, hilarious—between that location and… wherever they were. He nodded. 

“Thought so. I can’t  _ believe  _ you got that working without me,” said Zelda, standing with a wince—she must have been stiff, having ridden Thunder at a gallop for longer than recommended and sleeping for a day afterwards—and offering her hand to Link. After he took it and wobbled to his feet, she gestured around them. “Purah mentioned we should have gone near the Lost Woods, by the stable that resides there. This…  _ isn’t  _ that.”

Link finally took a moment to analyze his surroundings. He seemed to be in a half-collapsed cave, dim and drafty, lit only by tiny deposits of Luminous Stone in the walls and with only one visible exit across from where he and Zelda stood. She had a point—if this was  _ anywhere  _ near the Lost Woods, Link would eat his sword. He knew that part of Hyrule better than he knew his own face. 

_ “I don’t get it,”  _ he said eventually, exaggerating his signs so that they’d be clearer. 

“Yeah, me neither,” said Zelda. “The only clue I’ve found is this.”

She held out a flat, circular object, coated with dust and grime. Link took it and ran his fingers across the surface, stiffening when he felt familiar markings.  _ Sheikah  _ markings. It was another teleportation medallion—and when he handed it back to Zelda and said as much, she went white under the pale blue glow of the stones. 

“But why did it take us  _ here?”  _ she said, swallowing anxiously. “The medallions weren’t  _ meant  _ to travel with their holders, right?”

_ “No. Ones like these were made in pairs,”  _ said Link.  _ “A two-way path between Point A and Point B, usually. The one we used is back at the lab…” _

He stopped, suddenly remembering what Purah had said about where they  _ got  _ that particular medallion. 

_ “We found this in the catacombs of Hyrule Castle, by the way… this was the only intact device we found, though the rubble’s still being sorted through.” _

“I know these catacombs,” said Zelda, rushing her words as if she had only seconds to speak. “I—I grew up exploring them, I’ve been in  _ this very cave  _ several times in the past year. We’re in  _ Hyrule Castle.” _

_ “Bad,”  _ said Link simply, swallowing. For a reason he knew all too well but chose to ignore, the usual energy he picked up just from being near Zelda didn’t come.  _ Stay awake, stay awake…  _

Zelda hesitated. “Partially, yes. See… in that nightmare I was stuck in, I uncovered part of the Yiga’s plan. There’s something here we need  _ badly,  _ since they want to destroy it.”

_ “Go back, explain,”  _ said Link, not quite following.  _ “You saw something while you were… out?” _

“I saw the—the day my mother died, like I was living it again for the first time,” said Zelda hesitantly. She went on to explain in clipped words the events of her nightmare, though Link suspected she held back the details. “The map the Yiga wanted to find so badly—I know  _ precisely  _ what they meant now, but we have to hurry.”

Link nodded, ignoring the hollow feeling in his limbs for the time being. Unfamiliar territory, smack-dab in the middle of a highly developed area—in other words,  _ not  _ the wilds—and walking right into a building the Yiga had almost certainly infiltrated, maybe even controlled. He didn’t regret waking Zelda in the slightest… but a method that  _ didn’t _ leave him incapable of channeling magic would be nice. 

Zelda must have noticed him cant to the side slightly. “You know what? These catacombs are  _ massive,  _ they go everywhere in and out of the castle—I can give you directions to one of the non-collapsed ones that leads outside of the moat. Being in the wilds will help you, right?”

Link shook his head vehemently before Zelda was even done speaking.  _ “I came this far with you, I’m not leaving now.” _

“How much can you actually do right now?” she countered. “You haven’t been focusing your eyes the entire time we’ve spoken, and I can’t hear you at all. I should be… feeling some part of your pain, at the very least. Right or wrong?”

A beat passed where Link genuinely considered walking right out of the cave to avoid admitting he was wrong. 

_ “You should be, yes,”  _ he said eventually.  _ “But I’m not leaving, and you can’t make me.” _

Zelda’s eyelid twitched. “Really? You’re choosing  _ now  _ to be petty?”

Link shrugged, knowing from the resigned expression on her face that he’d won.  _ “I should recover given time. Until then, we can just avoid confrontation—and we will do that together.” _

__ “I don’t like that you said “ _ should”,  _ but I suppose we really don’t have time to argue,” said Zelda with a sigh. Her creased brow softened a moment later. “I… I  _ do _ prefer having you with me, if possible. Shall we?” 

_ “Lead the way,”  _ said Link.  _ “But can you tell me where we need to go? How much sneaking is this?” _

Zelda suddenly looked… embarrassed? Awkward? It was hard to tell—Link missed being able to sense her mental state already. “That’s… the hard part of the plan, I’m afraid. All my mother’s writings went one of two places—the castle library, which houses her general research, and… my father’s room, which has her personal writings and a few things she specifically said were not to be released or destroyed.”

Link could imagine what sort of research would be deemed too sensitive to go to the library—the kind left behind to aid spirits, perhaps.  _ “We’re going to rob the king’s room. Easy, or…?” _

“There’s several secret passages right up to it, but not into the actual room,” said Zelda, nervously shifting from foot-to-foot as she spoke. “We’re going to have to be  _ very  _ lucky.”

_ “Good thing I blessed you, then,”  _ said Link.  _ “Ready?” _

“I—you will be expanding on that later,” said Zelda, waving a finger at him. She slung the hastily-made pack over her shoulder, swatted at Link’s hand when he offered to take it, and handed his bow back. “Try not to overextend yourself with that, alright? I’ll carry your sword. I’m nowhere near as good as you, but I can manage.”

Neither of them mentioned that if it came down to fighting, they were both doomed. Link knew Hyrule Castle crawled with soldiers, knights, and nobles; all of those would spread the news of his and Zelda’s presence faster than the average disease. No sword or bow would help. Only stealth. 

_ “Good thing your childhood best friends are both Sheikah,”  _ he quipped, trying to lighten the mood. It worked a little bit, at least. 

“Yes, do try to keep up,” said Zelda, the side of her mouth quirking upwards. “Follow me—there’s a hidden passageway not far from this catacomb, but it’ll be a job getting there without being spotted. Let’s hurry.”

Finally, they were leaving that damp cave for fresh air—although from the sound of it, Link would be back within enclosed space  _ very  _ soon. Lovely. He kept his focus mainly on Zelda as she led him through the winding, rough-hewn tunnel—but he had to fight to stay alert enough to scan his surroundings once they emerged into… another cave. No, there were splashing sounds and rough shouts echoing off the walls—the docks. Link had seen the dock entrance from a distance before, but he’d never been inside. 

_ “Stay very quiet,”  _ Zelda signed at him, sticking close to the wall. Link mirrored, acutely aware of the echoes that could alert someone. At least the entrance to the excavation area was tucked away in what appeared to be a storage room, but the only way out  _ now  _ was through the door. 

_ “Earthquake exposed that tunnel not long ago,”  _ explained Zelda, pointing back where they’d come from briefly. Her signs were somewhat sloppy, but still readable.  _ “Stick close. We have a long trip.” _

_ What else is new?  _ Link thought, somewhat deliriously. Maybe it was the delirium that made him not remember the next almost half-hour that it took for Zelda to lead him in a winding, convoluted path across the castle grounds. Vaguely, images of statues that hid clever trapdoors and at least two near misses with guards stood out in his mind. Furtive conversations overheard through the walls did too, but Link didn’t think they really made sense. 

“...heard there was a skirmish in the southeast, even the spare reinforcements were overwhelmed by some ‘unconventional’ weapons—yes, from my cousin, and she never lies!” —an older man who sounded like someone who liked scandalous gossip. His conversation partner didn’t respond before Link and Zelda moved out of earshot. 

“I tol’ that nitwit, there’s no findin’ spirits as don’t want to be found! Those Lost Woods’ll kill ya outright lately, there’s no messin’ around nowadays!”

“‘E’s worried King Bosphorain’t won’t do anythin’ and you know it. My auntie’s got a dress blessed by Tera ‘erself, but it fell apart yesterday—things are gettin’ bad.”—two traders, likely from the far north, jabbering away in the kitchen. Link had to wonder how much power the king actually held if people were willing to insult him in his own home. 

“I don’t care about decrees anymore. The king needs to explain his reasoning, or the  _ entire  _ court’s going to turn against him—I don’t want to witness a civil war!”—a panicked young woman, whose conversation partner spoke in words too low to hear. 

Link was able to successfully avoid fainting for longer than he thought—and even though he’d been sure that stopping would end in a blackout, he even stayed awake when Zelda stopped dead in front of him and nearly knocked him over. It even jarred him back to full functionality for a moment. 

“Hylia above,” Zelda hissed, dragging Link behind a suit of armor.  _ “Right  _ in front of the tapestry we need…”

Link carefully peeked around the suit of armor, careful not to lean too far. In front of a rather ugly tapestry featuring what was probably  _ meant  _ to be a bygone king stood three figures—one with the snow-white hair and elegant robes of a Sheikah, seen from behind, and the other two with the hulking profiles and friendly faces of Gorons. These particular Gorons, however, weren’t looking all that  _ friendly  _ as they spoke.

Zelda tapped his shoulder for attention.

_ “Lord D-A-R-U-K,”  _ she signed, keeping a wary eye on the three talking figures.  _ “Goron leader. He should not be here.” _

Link frowned, her words taking a moment to process.  _ “What now?” _

_ “We wait,”  _ said Zelda after a moment. 

Luckily, no one came by in the next minute or so it took for Lord Daruk and his two conversation partners to seemingly decide to leave for no reason, exiting through the double doors at the opposite end of the corridor. Link and Zelda scrambled to the tapestry, only relaxing when they were both through and in the cramped passageway behind it. 

“He  _ really  _ shouldn’t be here,” said Zelda in an anxious hiss. “When I spoke to Lord Daruk last, he said he wouldn’t leave Death Mountain while this crisis continues—why is he  _ here?” _

_ “A new crisis, maybe,”  _ Link suggested. The signing took up about all the brainpower he had—no in-depth speculation for him. The most he felt like thinking about was the benefits of sleeping on the stone or finding some empty guest chamber. Castles had those, right?

Zelda worried her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment. “I don’t like that at all. He’s normally a jovial fellow—I didn’t think he was  _ able  _ get as grouchy as that. You might be right, but we need to hurry.”

_ “How much farther?” _

“Not  _ very,  _ but we’ve got to go over the throne room to avoid where the most guards are stationed,” said Zelda with a sigh. “There’s royal guards up there on special occasions only—besides that, it’s left alone and considered too isolated to cause problems. We’ll just need to be  _ very  _ careful.”

_ “Yay, more careful,”  _ Link signed flatly. He swayed when he tried to keep going—and Zelda managed to trip on her own feet trying to help him, which ended in Link getting to test his theory of what just lying on the damp stone would feel like. Not  _ too _ bad, just cold. 

“Sorry. My limbs feel like lead,” said Zelda, pushing herself off of her stomach slowly. “All this sneaking around—are you okay?”

_ “Fine,”  _ said Link from the floor. He didn’t feel much like getting up, even though he  _ knew  _ there was a time limit—the exhaustion was spreading rapidly, and had he been able to hear the wilds, they would be  _ screaming  _ at him to sleep.  _ “Tired.” _

An understatement, and they both knew it. 

“I’m sorry,” Zelda whispered, her voice cracking a little. “But we’re not—we’re not safe here, not safe enough to rest. Once we’re out…”

_ “Don’t feel guilty,”  _ said Link, catching the hitch in her breathing.  _ “I did what I did out of my own free will. All that’s left is moving forward.” _

Zelda held out her hand and Link took it, doing his best not to pitch over again.  _ When we’re safe. I can rest when we’re safe.  _

He’d just have to tough it out until then. Hopefully there wouldn’t be too many more problems with their plan. 

Of course, two left turns and a short climb later, there were roughly  _ five  _ more problems with the plan. At least all of those problems were in one place—the very room they had to sneak over. 

“Aren’t we entitled to a  _ break  _ at this point?” Zelda hissed, staring down at the gathered people in the throne room. Lord Daruk was the first problem Link recognized—he no longer had the other Goron with him, but he still looked disgruntled over something. The sentiment was shared by Chief Urbosa, who stood by the door with a stormy look on her brow. Closer to the throne, a royal Zora Link vaguely recognized and a navy-blue Rito he  _ definitely  _ recognized were speaking in low tones. Judging by Princess Mipha’s impressive fake smile and the ruffling on Revali’s wings, neither of  _ them  _ were pleased either. 

The kicker, though, was the older Sheikah woman who stood directly by the throne, watching the others with a sharp eye.  _ Lady Nikala.  _

_ “Goddess,”  _ Zelda breathed, her face paler than the snow atop Mount Lanayru. “I know why Lord Daruk is here now. Everyone down there is the  _ official representative  _ of their race.”

Link wasn’t quite sure why that was relevant, and it must have shown on his face. 

“The only reason they’d all be here at once is if my father summoned them,” Zelda elaborated, keeping her voice a low as possible. “He  _ can’t  _ have a good reason for doing that. Not good for us, anyway.”

Link thought about it for a moment—there was something niggling at the back of his mind that wouldn’t let up. Eventually, he pinned it down.  _ “If they’re waiting here, won’t he be in the throne room too?” _

“Yes, he’s rarely late,” said Zelda absentmindedly. Then she froze.  _ “Oh.  _ You’re a  _ genius,  _ he can’t be in his bedroom if he’s here—hurry!”

Link had the wherewithal to keep an eye on the people below as he and Zelda skirted the narrow platform encircling the top of the throne room. None of the “representatives” noticed their passage, too busy talking or eyeing the doorways in apprehension. The twitch of Lady Nikala’s ear was  _ probably _ just her reaction to Revali loudly objecting to being referred to by the wrong title. 

“From here, we just slide down that bit of roof and it  _ should  _ be smooth sailing,” Zelda hissed in his ear as they reached another window. 

_ “Nothing like the word ‘should’,”  _ said Link, managing a weak grin. 

But just before she could lead the way, Zelda abruptly stiffened and doubled over, making an odd retching noise. She clapped a hand over her own mouth to stifle it and fell back onto Link for support, shuddering. 

“Y-Yiga,” she hissed, panting faintly. “S-so  _ strong,  _ it’s nauseating-“

Then the throne room doors creaked open below them, and Link barely needed to spare a glance downwards to know who had just entered. His lack of magic at the moment may have been a blessing—he sensed the ugly presence around King Rhoam, but not enough to make him dry-heave like Zelda was heroically trying to prevent. 

Wait. 

_ It was coming from King Rhoam.  _

No doubt about it—Zelda mentioning that the Yiga had hung around her father’s head in her vision was no coincidence. No wonder the king sent out an order against his daughter. If the Yiga could be sensed when he walked into the room… either they were with him, disguised as him, or controlling him, and none of those options were good. 

“I thank you all for coming on such short notice. Hopefully, I won’t need to keep you long,” said the king, his voice an imperious rumble that shook Link to the core. It was as if he had been petrified—but Zelda, used to such a voice, didn’t freeze up.

_ “Move,”  _ she signed, despite her face still being pale and drawn.  _ “Short meeting—less time.” _

She had a point. They were out the window a moment later, leaving behind the choking sensation of the Yiga’s presence and Zelda’s father. Zelda didn’t speak anymore, in sign or otherwise, beyond pointing to their next goal or a nearby guard. Back inside the castle they went, through two more short passageways, past several guards, and finally,  _ finally,  _ into a tower. Their footsteps on the stone stairs were cushioned by opulent carpeting, the walls were lined with expensive-looking paintings, and the lamps were kept perfectly even.

All in all, a ridiculous, suffocating part of the castle—and they weren’t even in Rhoam’s actual  _ room  _ yet. 

Zelda listened at the door carefully. When no sound echoed from within, she reached for the knob with trembling fingers. Took a breath. Let it out. And pushed. 

Inside, somehow, was even  _ more  _ opulent than the rest of the castle—if Link had money, he’d bet all of it that the glittering embellishments on every scrap of furniture were all pure gold. Soft carpeting silenced their footsteps as Zelda hurried him inside and gingerly shut the thick oaken door, a far cry from the damp catacombs or the plain stone in the servants’ quarters. It didn’t look much like a bedroom--the circular room which lay behind the door was more of a sitting room, with a fireplace and a couch. Link could see another two doors that might

“This is really more of an apartment than a bedroom, I know,” said Zelda, noticing the slight distaste in Link’s expression. “He insists on living  _ as befits a king _ . Come on, it should be stored around his bookshelves…”

Link helped Zelda shuffle through the thick, somewhat dusty tomes in the king’s study—he had two, apparently, one here and one in the library--and found mostly encyclopedias and history books. Link didn’t read much, but he knew those were famously boring. There were no personal trinkets beyond a small collection of pens, no diaries or journals, no novels that could be classed as leisure reading, nothing. Link wasn’t sure what to make of that. 

Then Zelda stiffened suddenly, pulling out a thin, nondescript leather-bound book from its place sandwiched between two larger novels. Link would have overlooked it—it didn’t even have a title—but Zelda clearly recognized it. She held it reverently, as if the dusty leather were a gift from the Goddess. 

_ It is, in a way,  _ Link realized, suddenly recognizing the importance of the little book in Zelda’s shaking hands. 

“This… she used to sketch in this all the time,” said Zelda softly. She opened the book with gentle fingers, acting like she thought it would shatter in her hands. Link carefully leaned closer, conscious of how Zelda’s voice shook along with her hands. The very first page contained only a loose sketch of what looked to be the silhouette of a mountain, but the most important content wasn’t part of the sketchbook at all. Rather, the folded piece of thick parchment that slipped from between the pages onto the desk made Zelda freeze and gape in shock. 

_ I’m missing something,  _ Link realized, but he wasn’t sure what.

“That’s it,” Zelda breathed, unfolding the parchment with the same reverence she had treated the sketchbook. It held the most gorgeous map Link had ever seen—not that he had seen many, but the grace of the lines and shading, the care put into the shape of the continent, and the personality in each tiny, scribbled note in the margins could not be denied. The most detailed part of the map spilled over the upper right-hand corner, where a circular forest was delicately labeled “Lost Woods”. More notes lay below it, but Link was more focused on the bright red ink that twisted from the entrance of the woods to the center like a ribbon.

A path, labeled “emergencies only”, that detailed a part of the woods Link knew was  _ not  _ graced by the protection of the mists. He’d been intending to lead Zelda through a similar path, back when their only plan had been to get to the Great Deku Tree, before things had gone so wrong. Now, with his powers drained, he wasn’t so sure he could have found that path on his own. 

_ It might not even be available anymore,  _ Link realized, swallowing the sudden fear in his throat.  _ There’s never been a threat like this. He might have closed the path entirely—but surely Zelda can still get through. The queen’s path is different. Why does hers go that way? _

“She met the Great Deku Tree, you know,” said Zelda softly. “I never questioned how she got in… but this has  _ got  _ to be it. She left me a map. The Yiga don’t want us in the Lost Woods for some reason if they want to destroy this—why?”

_ “It holds many secrets,”  _ said Link.  _ “The Deku Tree is ancient. We’ve been working towards you being able to understand Farosh’s message, but if the Yiga don’t want us to be able to ask the Deku Tree… he must know something truly vital.” _

__ “Well,” said Zelda, folding the map again and tucking it back into the sketchbook. Her eyes shone with new determination—and if Link looked closer, he could even see a tiny bit of hope. “In that case, we better get there quick. I’d hate to give the Yiga so much as an inch-”

_ Thump.  _

Zelda and Link froze at the same time, listening intently. 

_ Thump. Thump.  _

Footsteps. Slow, heavy, but undoubtedly getting close, coming up the stairs. 

Towards the door. 

Towards  _ them.  _

_ “Hide,”  _ Zelda signed with lightning-fast fingers, seizing hold of Link’s wrist when he was slow to respond. One blur of motion later, Link found himself sandwiched between Zelda, the wall of a rather opulent closet, and what seemed to be an unholy amount of gold-embroidered coats and tunics. At least it was a rather  _ comfortable  _ place to hide, even though Link could actually feel Zelda’s heart rate shooting through the roof. His own wasn’t great either, but the lethargy seemed to have arrested it slightly. Link was left in the odd in-between of being utterly exhausted yet wired-up by adrenaline.

Yay. 

The heavy footsteps paused for a moment, and the  _ click  _ of the door opening seemed to echo right through Link’s skull. More heavy footsteps across the room, accompanied by the gentle  _ clink  _ of jewelry and even, soft breathing. Whoever-it-was coughed, their voice rough and deep. 

“They won’t leave,” said the voice, despite undoubtedly being the only other person in the room. “The bird suspects me, but as you wish, they will remain in the castle.”

Why was King Rhoam talking to himself?

“No, no progress on my daughter or that rogue.”

Zelda tensed, clinging tight to Link with shaking arms. He squeezed her upper arm soothingly—it wasn’t like he could do anything else. Something about the king’s voice had frozen him again. Some undertone, a slight echo… but only in his head.  _ Wrong. It feels wrong.  _

King Rhoam wasn’t talking to  _ himself.  _ He was talking to the Yiga. 

“I have… some questions, however.”

Link did his best to breathe silently, straining to hear. 

“What happens to the kingdom?”

A pause. Link wished he could have heard the Yiga’s response, but the king’s next words came too fast for there to have been one. 

“What fate does this path lead to? Eleven years and you’ve never said, My Lady.”

Link frowned. Either he was starting to hallucinate noises (was there a word for that?) or the king thought he was talking to Her Grace Hylia—or perhaps one of the Golden Three, but either way, the  _ Yiga  _ would never be addressed as such. Judging by how Zelda’s breath hitched where she had her undoubtedly-aching head buried in his chest, Link wasn’t hearing things. 

“I meant no disrespect, I swear it.” 

The king’s voice shook now, a far cry from the commanding rumble he’d used before. Zelda’s grip around Link’s chest felt tighter than an iron band, though her arms shook.

“In… in that case, I understand, Your Grace. But I cannot destroy—”

Zelda winced violently at the same time as the king’s voice suddenly hitched, both of them reacting like they’d been electrically shocked. 

“Very well. I will search her collection,” said the king, his voice… robotic. Link shivered to hear a voice so devoid of emotion, when before it had shaken the room like thunder. He didn’t like the king at  _ all…  _ but he certainly pitied his situation.

“They’re not here,” Zelda whispered weakly, her voice a mere hiss in the dark. “Not… in the room.”

That, at least, was a comfort—along with the angular shape of the queen’s sketchbook that pressed against Link’s ribs where Zelda held it. Their one piece of guidance that might just save the world… assuming they could escape the castle with it. 

Shuffling. A few thumps, each one making Link’s heart jump. The king got no closer to the closet, luckily, but it still took him several harrowing minutes to decide his search was fruitless and leave the room. It took Zelda another two to unfold herself and shake off the disorientation, and Link another  _ three  _ to wake up enough to stand.

“We’re a mess,” said Zelda with a wan smile. It fell, melted, solidified into something new a moment later. “Let’s go. We can… try to think about all this more when we’re safe, but only then.”

_ When we’re safe,  _ Link reminded himself, subtly pinching the sensitive skin on his wrist to stay awake.  _ Only then. I can rest then.  _

_ When we’re safe,  _ Link reminded himself, keeping the back of Zelda’s head in focus and letting her act as a guide back through the cramped tunnels and dangerous precipices. They didn’t have to totally retrace their steps—the catacomb tunnels that stretched east underneath the moat could be accessed from the gardens—but the journey back was just as long as the journey forward had been. 

_ When we’re safe,  _ Link reminded himself, every time he stumbled and failed to hide the stuttered step from Zelda. She winced as if every misplaced footstep dug right into her chest—but she was the more alert one, and Link couldn’t afford to distract her even  _ more, _ so he waved her concern away. 

_ When we’re safe.  _ More tunnels, more fractured pieces of worrying gossip, this time about the representatives—and Link could only hope that the people saying there were guards meant to prevent each representative from leaving the castle were only scaremongers. 

_ When we’re safe.  _ A harrowing near-sprint across a strip of ground unshielded from view, only sheer luck preventing disaster. It avoided a hopelessly-crowded plaza, so they had no choice if they didn’t want to be spotted. Link couldn’t help but feel that something followed them regardless… 

_ When we’re safe.  _ Hiding in the shadows. 

_ When we’re safe.  _ Clinging to the scraps of consciousness he had left. 

_ When we’re safe.  _ Were those footsteps, or did mortal bodies hear things when pushed to their limits?

_ When we’re safe.  _

Would that be soon?

“Last stretch,” said Zelda at long last, slightly pushing open a painting on hinges from inside the spiderwebby passage they were in. “I promise. We just have to go past the kitchens, there’s a tunnel to the catacombs and no one goes down there.”

_ “Plenty of people in the kitchens,”  _ Link managed. He had no idea how a castle functioned normally, but he did know that mortals tended to congregate around sources of food. Spirits did the same thing around magic—usually just Koroks or Blupees, but they did it regardless. 

“Yes, and nearby them too—but we can do it,” said Zelda. “We have to. There’s no way we could get out of the main gates unseen, so…”

Link steeled himself and nodded. Zelda went to push the painting open and hop out-

-and promptly fell out of the opening as it was yanked from her grasp by an unseen hand. Link instantly moved to catch her but found himself shoved back into the passage by someone who only appeared as a blurred silhouette in his exhausted vision. Zelda stumbled back in before Link could even try to stand up, and the figure followed, shutting the painting behind them. 

Zelda planted herself firmly in front of Link, almost  _ daring _ the figure to try something—but Link saw the emblem on their midnight-dark robes before she did. He coughed, trying to get her attention and stop a fight before it happened. 

Lady Nikala, old as she was, would undoubtedly wipe the floor with an exhausted spirit and equally exhausted teenager. 

Zelda recognized the Sheikah eye as well and gaped when the Lady drew back her hood, revealing severe bloodred eyes and a thin mouth set into a hard line. The Sheikah matriarch was looking a little less than friendly, but she had no guards or soldiers with her—unless they lied in wait… 

“Dare I ask how you managed to get here when I  _ know  _ you were in Hateno, Princess?” said Lady Nikala, the slightest hint of concern making it through her stern voice. “Good morning, Spirit. I’d say you look well, but you don’t.”

Link snorted, deliriously finding the statement funny, but both he and Zelda remained suspicious—a fact not lost on Lady Nikala. 

“I have no intentions of turning you in. Not to a king who carries none of Her Grace’s lineage, and who dares disgrace the last person who does,” she said brusquely. Zelda relaxed slightly, enough to chance turning her head to help Link stand. Lady Nikala didn’t move once—perhaps aware of the borrowed sword on Zelda’s belt. “I’m surprised you believe me so easily.”

“I wouldn’t if you weren’t who you are,” said Zelda, her voice cold. “You always follow the decree of Hylia’s line, Lady Nikala. To the letter. You intended to tell me of the order at Kakariko, didn’t you?”

“Originally, I intended to follow that decree personally,” said Lady Nikala smoothly. “I figured the more hamfisted agants of the crown might harm you, and intended to make sure you remained in one piece while I investigated. Now I see your father would have been the one to harm you—or rather, his  _ hand _ would have. I doubt his mind has seen clearly since your mother’s death. You confirming that the Yiga Clan was active once more sealed my decision.”

To Link’s utter shock, the proud Shiekah leader sank to one knee before an equally-shocked Zelda. “No longer will I accept orders from King Rhoam. You are the only royal left in possession of her own mind in the face of a massive threat—and the only remaining mortal in possession of Her Grace’s gifts. My loyalty lies with you without dispute, Princess.”

Zelda didn’t seem to know what to do with that. After a moment, she spoke.

“Please, don’t bow to me. I…” she took a steadying breath. “So Father has been… what, possessed?”

“Influenced. I sense a dark shadow around his mind, but I cannot probe further,” said Lady Nikala, rising smoothly. Link had been under the impression that mortals over a certain age had trouble moving, but Lady Nikala made him doubt that. “The best course of action is to keep him as deep in the dark as possible. He already treads on the brink of starting a war, keeping myself and the other leaders of the four races… three leaders and Warrior Revali, anyway… in the castle and refusing us freedom.”

Zelda recoiled, which threw Link off. “He admitted as much to your  _ faces?  _ Has a war already begun?”

“No, but I know how to read facial expressions, and I am far from stupid. He has no intention of letting us leave once our ‘week of conference’ is up,” said Lady Nikala. “Lady Urbosa in particular suspects him, but it is no secret that she dislikes him anyway—and I doubt Warrior Revali can hold his tongue long enough to keep the peace. You’re lucky I caught up with you when I did.”

“You’re right. Now I know we  _ really  _ need to hurry,” said Zelda. She wilted a moment later. “Hurry even  _ more,  _ that is. Does he intend to actually harm any of you?”

“I doubt it. The Yiga behind his actions has shown to be clever at times,” said Lady Nikala. “Declaring you a traitor likely came from your status as a child of Hylia—they want you dead quite badly, and this spirit along with you. We leaders are more important as hostages.”

Link frowned. Had the Lady suddenly grown another pair of eyes? 

No, he was just swaying where he stood. Mortal vision was so oddly susceptible to illness and exhaustion… 

“Link, hey, lean on me, don’t pass out-“

Link accepted the supporting arm from Zelda and noted the brief, curious glint in Lady Nikala’s eye. 

“Have you been injured, or is it proximity to this castle?” she asked sharply. 

_ “Both,”  _ Link signed with some difficulty. 

“Then I will keep you both no longer, assuming you got what you came for. You needed to know about the king and his current plan,” said Lady Nikala, “but I have told you. Princess, I’m sure you’re curious—Impa is well, according to Chief Urbosa.”

“We’re going through the catacombs,” said Zelda, sparing the news about her bodyguard only a distracted, relieved smile. “Can’t you and the others get out too?”

“We could try—I’m sure Lord Daruk could simply roll right out the gates with only a touch more freedom—but that would allow the Yiga to realize we’re aware of their influence,” said Lady Nikala. “They certainly do not know  _ you  _ are here, though your stealth skills could use some work. I spotted you.”

Link remembered the flick of the Lady’s ear back in the throne room and winced, which did not go unnoticed. 

“Yes, you probably should have paid more attention—but here I am holding you up,” said the Lady, stepping aside. “I technically have free reign, as a…  _ guest.  _ The Yiga-king has the sense to not restrain us. I can scout the way.” 

“Please, go ahead,” said Zelda. She watched Lady Nikala disappear through the portrait hole and took a deep breath. “Right. I’ll have to leave some kind of directions through the catacombs with her, we can’t let the Yiga start a war… but my father’s puppeteer could declare it anyway if they leave without permission—Hylia.”

Link had only a passing understanding of mortal politics—they were such fleeting things; he’d learned long ago that keeping up was a time-intensive and not-fun job—but he got the gist this time. Starting a war on the scale insulting all four races would cause… Hyrule would be destabilized even further, especially if half the Hylian troops didn’t even trust their king. Civil war was far from pretty. Link had seen it personally. 

Had he? Maybe the delirium was getting to his head. There hadn’t  _ been  _ a civil war in Hyrule during his “lifetime”... and hopefully there  _ wouldn’t  _ be. 

“We’ve got our work cut out for us,” said Zelda tiredly, mirroring Link’s thoughts. “Come on, let’s go. Do you still need me to help you walk?”

Link shook his head, letting her step away and instantly regretting it.  _ When we’re safe. I can rest when we’re safe. _

He’d hold out until then, but probably only just.

Zelda waved him along a moment later, and Link forced himself to move as quickly and smoothly as possible. It took them less than two minutes to get to the edge of the inner wall, where another catacomb entrance awaited. Lady Nikala’s guiding took  _ some _ of the pressure of stealth off his shoulders (he never even saw her, but Zelda saw the signs she left). Having another pair of eyes was nice… 

Naturally, the pressure came back tenfold as soon as they got there—though, in a way, Link didn’t have to worry about stealth anymore. 

Not when a guard had finally spotted them. 

Shouts rang out from across the grounds and Link found himself bundled into the final tunnel. He had never been  _ bundled  _ before. It ended quickly, though, because next thing he knew Zelda had stopped guiding him and was saying something.  _ Loudly.  _ Link couldn’t hear right over the buzzing in his ears, but he could read her lips.

“Can you run?”

Probably, he wanted to say, but thudding footsteps spurred both of them forward before he could. The new tunnel was chill as a grave and had more puddles than a hallway in Zora’s Domain, and every pursuing footstep sent a flurry of echoes that seemed to bounce off of both the walls and Link’s skull before fading. Zelda skidded past some abandoned, neatly stacked digging tools, so Link followed suit. Zelda took the fork in the road that led down, deeper underground, so Link did too.  _ Don’t lose focus.  _

Twist. Turn. Dodge a spiderweb, dodge divots and stalagmites by the light of luminous stones, ignore the skeletons that lay abandoned in the depths of the catacombs. Pray that the echoes were truly fading, that his hearing wasn’t just failing—and most of all,  _ don’t stop running.  _

His heart pounded as if trying to break through his chest, mirroring the jarring pound of each footstep. Something just behind his sternum seemed to be on fire, and each rib protested as if pinched in iron clamps. Every other breath wheezed like a broken bellows. 

_ I hate being out of magic.  _ Link finally understood why so many mortals avoided physical activity like a plague. His own body was violently rebelling against having to do things without the usual support of spirit magic—no backflips or handstands for him until his magic was back. Bah. 

(An odd thing to be annoyed about while running for his life, but Link was just a tad beyond coherent thought by that point.) 

Finally, the pursuing footsteps stopped.

Finally, the tunnels sloped upwards again.

Finally, Hyrule Castle was behind them, and Great Hyrule Forest could be reached. 

_ Finally,  _ Link could stop running.

But they weren’t safe yet. 

—

Zelda had never  _ hated  _ being in Hyrule Castle, but she breathed easier out of more than just the relief of escape once the catacombs let them out. The oppressive Yiga presence had been like a lead blanket over her mind, arresting the speed of her reactions just when she (and Link) needed them most. Lady Nikala knew better than to allow herself to be caught, but it had been Zelda’s failure to move quickly enough that got them spotted. She doubted Link had actually registered it, and that Lady Nikala would have failed to get away, but… 

_ Breathe,  _ she reminded herself.  _ Link still needs help. You still have a ways to go. _

Link himself, despite an impressive ability to push forward, remained decidedly worse for wear. He puffed and wheezed like his body was truly his mind’s age even after they were done running, and even though Zelda herself was feeling the aftereffects of the past few days acutely, she’d have taken on the pain he was in in a heartbeat so that he didn’t have to. 

“Light at the end of the tunnel,” she said instead, gesturing to the ladder up ahead. “Ready? We’re almost there.”

Link nodded tiredly and flashed an approximation of his usual mischievous grin, though it looked more like a grimace. 

The end of the catacombs was actually one of the more well-known passages around Hyrule Castle. There was a small outpost over the exit, but the guards there never saw much action—Zelda chose to count it as a blessing that they were sleeping on the job. She’d make a note of it in the future for security’s sake. 

If there was a future where she had the authority to do so, anyway. 

“Let’s stop here and think for a moment,” said Zelda once the outpost was out of sight. The sparse trees around them provided little cover, but it would do for a while. “There’s still some… obstacles, unfortunately, but at least we’re not in the castle anymore.”

Beyond the moat lay two major problems: the busy road, and the military training camp just outside Great Hyrule Forest. Zelda could count  _ three  _ major problems if she included Link’s injury and her own exhaustion, which she probably should. Making it even the relatively short distance on foot was just about out of the question, but… 

“How do you feel about a little petty crime?” she asked Link, who was leaning so heavily on the tree next to him that it seemed in danger of falling over. He scrunched up his face, clearly thinking.

_ “Depends on the crime,”  _ he said eventually with hands that trembled. 

“Grand theft horse and wagon,” said Zelda, calling to mind the outpost’s lazy guards. They would have such things for transport. 

Link reacted slowly, but he did react. A grin spread across his face despite the obvious effort.  _ “Glad to see almost dying hasn’t gotten rid of your spark. Anything that gets us to the Lost Woods faster.” _

__ Impa would have torn into the guards with nothing but a well-placed glare for their incompetence—Zelda and Link managed to steal a wagon, two horses to pull it, and even some food to replenish their sad supplies without once being spotted (Link scarfed half of the food—dried army rations which  _ no one  _ could call “tasty”—but it didn’t seem to help him much). Zelda took over driving the oddly-tranquil horses, letting Link lie down in the back to gain strength.

“Just the training camp to sneak past—the road won’t be a challenge now,” she told him, glancing back. Link sat up against the low wooden bench with a grimace and nodded. “Come on now, you should try to rest a bit. I know it’s a bumpy ride, but…”

Link shook his head woozily.  _ “Not safe. I can’t.” _

__ Zelda pursed her lips, but it was clear Link wouldn’t budge. “Okay. I suppose… will the horses follow the road on their own? Your presence does things like that, right?”

__ _ It might not. Not while he’s like this.  _

_ “Yes. They can tell where you want to go,”  _ said Link, his fingers sluggish. 

“In that case,” said Zelda, running her fingers over her mother’s sketchbook and allowing the reins to go slack, “I’ve got reading to do.”

She remained in the driver’s seat, just turned to the side with her hood up—partially to hide her face from passerby, as the sun had barely crested midday—and partially to have a better angle to talk to Link. The sketchbook sat cradled in the space between her chest and where her knees were propped, looking for all the world like nothing more than a bundle of hand-drawn art and not the world-saving object it was. 

Besides the map of Hyrule, as helpful as that was, there were pages upon pages disguised as mere drawings—in fact, they were a mini-encyclopedia of all the ins and outs of spirit domains her mother had encountered. Tiny words written in Sheikah hid in the margins and shadows, providing a wealth of information. The section for the Great Deku Tree alone was  _ pages  _ long, while the sections for Malanya and Link spanned only two pages total. Everything else lay somewhere in-between. 

“She tried to meet every spirit, but never met you,” Zelda murmured under her breath, waving to some passerby who had waved first to be polite. “Why is that? She was quite good at tracking down spirits, and surely you heard…”

To Zelda’s utter surprise, Link suddenly became a lot more awake—but not in a good way. What seemed to be all the blood in his body rushed straight to his ears as he shrugged carefully.  _ “She… never got lucky enough…?” _

Zelda squinted at him suspiciously. “Link, did you  _ purposefully _ avoid meeting my mother?”

_ “If I said yes, how likely are you to kick me out of the wagon?” _

__ “...Depends on your reasoning.”

_ “No… real reason?”  _ Link admitted sheepishly.  _ “I felt like being petty that day and it snowballed…?” _

__ Zelda gave him the best stinkeye she could muster with the energy she had and sighed heavily. “I  _ suppose  _ I can excuse you. Carry on resting, I want to see what she wrote on the Deku Tree.”

_ “I can guide you through the Lost Woods,”  _ said Link curiously, though his signs were sluggish. 

“Yes, but it says right here, the normal path closes in times of crisis,” said Zelda, pointing to a patch of script disguised as part of the Deku Tree’s foliage. “And… I don’t know how coherent you were, but multiple servants and traders talked about the Lost Woods turning dangerous recently as we snuck around. People have gone in and come back out as walking skeletons…  _ if  _ they come out.”

Link frowned, taking some time to respond.  _ “The woods haven’t done that in my memory. You’ll need that guidance, then.” _

“No wonder the Yiga wanted this destroyed,” said Zelda, running gentle fingers over the lines her mother had once made with deft hands. “It’ll save us all… if I can just find what I need before we reach the woods.”

_ “I’ll leave you to it.” _

—

Her mother’s words ingrained themselves in Zelda’s head as if they belonged there in the short time it took to reach the Lost Woods. After making it past the stretch of road that was actually populated and visible to the military training camp, they left the wagon in the nearby non-magical woods and let the horses free (the latter was insisted upon by Link, who was steadily less coherent as time went on but had brain space for  _ that).  _ Great Hyrule Forest seemed to loom on the path ahead.

_ Enter if you dare,  _ it seemed to say.  _ I’ll chew you up and spit you out.  _

__ Link leaned against Zelda as they finally stepped up to the entrance, once again relying on her to walk. She wasn’t sure how much of it was also meant as reassurance, but she’d take it as such. 

“In we go,” she murmured. Her feet didn’t want to step into the swirling mists—not when they seemed as solid as a brick wall.  _ I’ll count, then I’ll move. Gotta adapt…  _

_ One.  _

__ _ Two. _

__ _ Three.  _

The mist curled around her arms and legs, hissing defensively and blocking out all sound from outside the forest. Link’s weight at her side kept Zelda grounded, and the rustle of her mother’s map in her fingers reminded her of the goal.

“I am a child of Hylia,” she whispered, unable to speak any louder than that. The words fell into the mist as if dropped in weighted sacks, disturbing the swirling white.  _ Mama wrote these. She is with me.  _ “I bring blessings only, never harm.”

The whispering of the Lost Woods grew louder, dwarfing the promise on Zelda’s lips. She stood firm, heeding the written warning:  _ do not move until the woods say, unless you wish to be put right back where you started.  _

Her mother had not anticipated the woods turning people into living skeletons, but the warning stood regardless. 

Zelda repeated her promise once more, acutely aware of Link’s increasingly labored breathing and the whispering of the mists. They said nothing coherent—but if she concentrated, the hisses concealed what might have been gentle musical notes, a sound that grew stronger in the seconds that followed. 

Then, with a gentle sigh, the oppressive white receded, leaving behind only the silhouettes of twisted trees and swirls of gray mist. Zelda swallowed nervously and clutched the map for comfort. 

“Stay close,” she murmured, which earned a tired nod from Link. The fact that he didn’t roll his eyes or make a remark along the lines of  _ “well, duh”  _ only spurred her forward. Her mother’s elegant, slightly shaken script remained her guide, a beacon from the past that might save the future. 

_ There are torches, normally, but that path is closed in times of crisis… as I suspect will be the situation when you need to cross, Little Bird. Speak my blessing and let the mists recognize you.  _

Done. Zelda saw the sconces where such torches might have been, but they were cold and dark—not to mention far from the path her feet now tread. She would have to trust entirely on her mother’s map. 

_ Should you have a companion, keep tight hold of them.  _

Link’s arm around her shoulders constricted once when Zelda reassuringly squeezed his waist. He shook slightly, and Zelda wasn’t sure if he feared the woods or his own exhaustion.

_ Let the mists guide you through, but try to remember which turns to take. They might decide to mislead you.  _

Right, another right, hard left, and a loop around a particularly warped tree. The pattern didn’t repeat, but Zelda had memorized the whole thing already. The mists parted in the right direction—but once or twice, they  _ did  _ part in multiple directions. 

_ Ignore the words. Ignore the music. The ghosts of long-gone spirits and mortals alike rest here in limbo… the forgotten predecessors of the Koroks, adults unlucky enough to be trapped in the hostile mists, and children who died all alone with no mourners. So ignore the words, ignore the music, or else you might join them too.  _

Giggles echoed in Zelda’s ears occasionally, accompanied by gentle notes on what sounded like a flute. She paid them no mind, just as she ignored the whispers of “ _ help me” _ and the clatter of dry bone in the shadows. 

_ Most of all, Little Bird, be brave. Show no fear. The Lost Woods has long been a safeguard for those who bear Courage… the mists recognize it now, and respect it. They will let you pass through faster. _

Zelda squared her shoulders and refused to back down or retreat, keeping in mind that she needed to get Link to safety just as much as she needed the Deku Tree’s counsel. She would not show fear, no matter how much the mists unsettled her, no matter how worried she was for her family and her country. 

The mists knew. 

The mists guided.

And eventually, the mists opened. 

“Link, look!” Zelda said excitedly, spotting a glimmer of greenish-golden light ahead. Link stopped dragging his feet so much and glanced up, the light seeming to rejuvenate him at least somewhat. They both pressed forwards, overjoyed to be free at last-

_ POOF! _

“Yahaha!”

“Wild spirit! Wild spirit!”

“Lookie! It’s the Goddess-mortal too!”

“Isn’t everybody supposed to be hiding?”

Childish voices popped up all around them, accompanied by bursts of leaves and magic. Koroks of every shape and color danced in the air like petals on the breeze, but their elated voices dimmed when neither Link nor Zelda responded quickly enough.

“Hi, Princess!” said a voice from somewhere around her knee. Zelda looked down to see a round-bodied Korok waving at her hopefully. “The spirit of the wilds isn’t okay, is he? How’d you get in?”

“A map. We-” Zelda cut herself off. _ “I _ need to speak with the Deku Tree, little one. Link needs to rest. Can you-”

Link nudged her and signed one-handed,  _ “Safe?” _

“Yes.  _ Took _ us long enough-”

But before Zelda could finish her sentence, Link nodded and promptly fainted. He was totally limp before Zelda could even fumble, but he wouldn’t have noticed even if she had failed to catch him—out cold in less than a second. If Zelda hadn’t been frantic with worry, she would have been impressed. 

“Uh-oh!” said the round Korok. The sentiment was echoed several times by the watching spirits, who chattered among themselves in words Zelda couldn’t hear. “There’s a place to rest near Grandfather—need help getting him there?”

Dubious of the help the tiny Koroks could provide, Zelda chose to be diplomatic. “Please show me the way. I-I can carry him.”

For some  _ ungodly _ reason, Link weighed as much as a burly knight in full mail. Only sheer exhausted adrenaline let Zelda hoist him into a bridal carry and take stumbling steps across the mossy forest floor, passing by grown-over stones and enough odd mushrooms to make a fine fairy village. In fact, there actually  _ were  _ fairies flitting among the bushes—and Blupees, oddly enough. 

_ Refugees,  _ Zelda realized, shifting Link’s weight and hurrying to follow the little round Korok. She could worry about them in a minute, when Link was safely put… inside a giant tree?

A giant tree with a  _ face.  _ Zelda gaped for a moment at the sheer size of what could only be the Great Deku Tree before her, halting in her tracks. It wasn’t just the imposing stature of the ancient spirit—though he was truly giant, bigger than she’d ever imagined—it was the undeniable power radiating from him, concentrating on the triangular stone platform which Zelda had unconsciously stopped on. 

_ Zzz…  _

_ He’s… snoring. He’s asleep? _

It seemed she’d caught the Deku Tree during his nap. A slight stir from Link reminded her of the mission at hand and Zelda continued, walking right under the Deku Tree’s mouth and into an open… room? Cave? 

A merry fire crackled away right in the entryway, which seemed like a hazard considering it was set inside a tree. Directly across from the entrance a small room boasted shelves full of flowers and wild vegetables, while to the right lay a similar room full of mushrooms (and oddly enough, arrows). To the left was where the little round Korok waited, bouncing up and down on a bed made of leaves.

“We used to like visitors!” he explained proudly, gesturing with one stubby hand for Zelda to carry Link over. “So this spot is for tourists—uh, mortals! Grandfather doesn’t much like being a tourist attraction… but you can rest here!”

Zelda nodded gratefully and did her best to not outright drop Link onto the springy bed. He barely even twitched, putting up no resistance when Zelda decided to slide his boots off for the sake of comfort. A soft  _ pop  _ and another burst of leaves signaled the sudden appearance of a blanket above her head—an appreciated gesture, but Zelda would have preferred the Koroks simply handed it to her. 

“Wait, hold on!” cried the little round Korok, reappearing in the air in front of Zelda when she finished making sure Link was alright and moved to leave. “You're glowing wrong!”

“I’m… what?” Zelda frowned, confused. “I’m sorry, little one-”

“It’s Maca.”

“Right. Sorry, Maca, but I’ve got no idea what that means,” said Zelda. “I have to speak with the Great Deku Tree right away. There’s so much at stake-”

“Nope!” said Maca firmly, somehow managing to make his leaf face look stern. “You’re glowing wrong! The wild spirit is too—and  _ he’s  _ resting. You’ve got some of his glow, but it’s too dim. Wrong glow! Rest!”

Zelda recalled the Korok in Faron who had said she glowed and set the information aside. There was too much at stake for her to just lie down so soon after reaching the forest—even though her limbs felt like lead and every footstep was like dragging an entire mountain along. She’d live. 

“I can’t yet,” she told Maca. “Not when my job isn’t finished. I will later.”

She moved past him, hoping that would settle it—but Maca made a loud  _ harrumph  _ noise and suddenly a small army of Koroks had popped out of nowhere, blocking the entrance.

“Sleep!” demanded a Korok that looked rather stretched-out. 

“I  _ can’t  _ yet,” Zelda reiterated somewhat helplessly. 

Maca poofed back in front of her, hanging onto his pinwheel for dear life. “The wild spirit fell asleep around you, so he needs you to stay. Don’t you know that?”

Zelda blinked slowly, not quite processing. “He what? He’s fallen asleep before…”

“Around who?” Maca asked meaningfully. “Spirits don’t sleep unless they really need it, Princess! Koroks sleep  _ here, _ around our siblings and Grandfather, and that’s it. Wanna guess why?”

Zelda wracked her brains, struggling to focus. The one and only time Link had slept in her presence, it had been right next to Epona. “Because… you’re more vulnerable, if you need sleep so badly?”

A series of tiny cheers went up from the watching Koroks, telling Zelda she’d gotten things right. Maca giggled and said, “Yeah! We sleep when we’re hurt, and everyone else makes sure we don’t get hurt worse. The wild spirit does that for us sometimes, but he’s never needed to sleep before… and he decided you were safe enough for that. You gotta stay near him!”

Zelda chewed the inside of her lip, conflicted and touched in equal measure. “I…”

“Besides, Grandfather’s asleep right now,” said Maca sagely. “He’s always snoozing when things are bad. He won’t wake up for  _ anything  _ unless he feels like it. Go rest now!”

Zelda could see no way out of the situation, so she sighed and gave in. “Alright, I’ll sleep—but not for long, okay? Could one of you wake me up by nightfall?”

“Sleep first!” 

“Of course, but-“

“SLEEP!”

She was getting absolutely  _ nowhere,  _ clearly, and the Koroks would only get more stubborn. It really  _ was _ time to surrender. Zelda tugged off her own shoes and gloves, setting them aside on the mossy floor and dropping her folded cloak next to them. The mattress, despite looking to be made entirely of leaves, held together just as well as a regular feather variety—spirit magic, perhaps? 

Something landed on her head out of nowhere and Zelda jolted, nearly knocking a friendly little Korok right off. He clung to her hair, giggling at the sudden joyride. 

“Are you just going to stay there?” Zelda asked, trying (and failing) to look up at the top of her own head. 

“Yep!” said the new Korok cheerfully. “Snuggles!”

The next few seconds were a blur, likely because of Zelda’s exhaustion, but she didn’t really mind ending up curled on her side with a contented Korok braiding her hair (how, without fingers… she wasn’t going to think about it) and another tucked into the crook of her arm like a leafy plush bear. She’d never had one of those—rather, Zelda had a well-loved plush  _ frog  _ tucked away somewhere from her younger days—but the comparison was undeniable. Several other Koroks settled in the blankets around her, seemingly content with sitting there and quietly making sure she stayed asleep. 

She was almost there when Link stirred slightly, instantly bringing Zelda back to awareness. She sat up (carefully, so as not to disturb the Koroks relaxing on her) and checked on him, hopeful that he was waking up.

No such luck, unfortunately. 

“Uh-oh, he’s dreaming,” said the Korok attempting to braid Zelda’s hair, hopping down to Link’s pillow and pushing his bangs aside worriedly. “Not good. Spirits don’t usually do that…”

_ Dreaming?  _ Zelda wondered, watching Link’s brow crease and his lips twitch upwards to reveal oddly sharp teeth.  _ Looks more like a nightmare…  _

Feeling more than a little helpless, Zelda pulled the blanket tighter over her friend’s shoulders. He stiffened almost imperceptibly, freezing her movement in its tracks—would he wake now? Should she feel guilty to have done so, or relieved to end the nightmare he’d been having?

Link’s head moved just slightly, tilting towards Zelda and the Korok with a confused look in his half-open eyes. He blinked slowly, clearly not comprehending his surroundings—but as soon as he got a good look at Zelda, he relaxed visibly. 

“You’re okay. You’re safe,” Zelda promised softly. She wasn’t sure how much of that was a lie, but even if all of it was—she’d  _ make  _ it true. Link deserved that much. 

When Zelda went to retract her hand, Link clumsily reached up and grabbed it for himself.  _ Don’t go,  _ said the gesture clear as day.  _ Please.  _

“I’m not going anywhere, promise.”

Settling down again was slightly awkward, partly because Link didn’t relax unless their hands stayed clasped and partly because several more Koroks had joined the pile, but eventually Zelda managed it. This time, she let herself drift away faster, comforted by the warm aura of Korok Forest and the knowledge they were safe.

For now, anyway. 

—

“Psst!”

_ Not right now…  _

_ “Psst!” _

_ Five more minutes…  _

“PSST!”

Zelda jolted, accidentally throwing Maca off her shoulder. He giggled as he rolled down the mound of blankets, so he was probably fine, but it took Zelda several seconds of slow blinking to gain enough coherency to know that. Link snoozed on, completely oblivious to Zelda and her halfhearted attempts to stretch the knots out of her muscles. 

“Somethin’ wrong?” she managed, wincing at a particularly loud  _ pop  _ from her spine. 

“Grandfather’s awake!” said Maca, hopping from foot to foot on the blankets over Zelda’s lap. “He said he wants to speak with you! Up, up!”

“Are—are you sure?” Zelda hesitated, unsure of leaving Link—should she wake him?

“Ask if he’s okay with us Koroks watching! He probably is.”

Zelda stopped in the process of going to shake Link’s shoulder, frowning at Maca. “You didn’t say that was an option  _ before  _ I went to sleep.”

Maca froze and abruptly  _ poofed  _ out of reach, hovering near the ceiling with a nervous giggle. “I wasn’t lying about needing protection and him deciding you were safe enough! Just, uh… I didn’t mention that you could have let him know who would be there. You needed rest! You’re still not glowing quite right, but you looked a lot worse!”

Zelda sighed heavily. “I’m not mad, Maca. Matter of fact, I’m impressed you’re that good at manipulation—would you mind going and telling the Deku Tree I'm coming?”

“Not at all!” 

Maca disappeared, leaving Zelda to go about tugging her shoes and gloves back on. She stepped around to Link’s side of the bed on quiet feet and shook his shoulder gently. “Link? I’ve got to leave the room, but the Koroks are still here. Is that okay?”

One of Link’s eyes slid open slowly, taking her in for what seemed like a long time, and he brought one hand up to clumsily make a thumbs-up. Worryingly, he didn’t seem any less tired—the last time he’d needed sleep. Link had simply sat up and been ready to go after not long, but now… 

“Alright. I’ll be back, you just rest.”

Zelda’s blood buzzed with adrenaline as she left the little inn, her mind spinning with the sheer absurdity of what she was about to do.  _ Walk up to one of the oldest spirits in Hyrule, ask for his blessing, and hope he knows more. Easy-peasy. At least I know he’s somewhat friendly…  _

Though the Lost Woods had never outright  _ killed  _ intruders before as far as Zelda knew. That was a new one. 

“This way! Watch the Blupees, they’re shy,” said Maca, springing onto Zelda’s shoulder once she exited the tree. He pointed to the last vestiges of blue light hovering near some bushes—left behind from a fleeing Blupee, it seemed. “Grandfather’s been letting Lord Satori hide his Blupees here since… well, Lord Satori’s losing a lot of power to stay hidden. He needs a break!”

Zelda swallowed. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“It’s not  _ all  _ bad,” assured Maca. “This way Lord Satori can come out and actually talk to the wild spirit—they’re great friends! And-“

He was cut off by a sudden rush of mist from seemingly nowhere, dampening the sounds of the forest around them. Zelda gasped and shielded her face before it could do anything—but it wasn’t hurting. This was  _ not  _ the mists of the Lost Woods. What was it?

“Speak of a spirit and here he is,” said Maca in a stage whisper, pointing to the platform before the Great Deku Tree. The mist, now glowing greenish-blue, coalesced into a horselike being right before Zelda’s eyes. A white mane shook and scattered blue sparks of magic that fell onto a coat covered in swirling white markings. Satori slowly turned his head, looking for all the world like an ethereal owl, and pinned Zelda under a six-eyed yellow gaze. 

**_Where?_ ** said a booming voice that echoed in Zelda’s head painfully. Satori said something else, but Zelda couldn’t hear over the ringing—it was Farosh all over again, with only  _ slightly  _ less pain. 

“She can’t hear you!” Maca said, probably only half as loudly as it seemed to Zelda. “Lord Satori, she can’t understand!”

“I—I did. For a moment,” Zelda stammered, clutching her ears. Maca held on to a bit of her hair for dear life while she shook her head to clear it, neither of them quite noticing when Satori stepped closer with hoofbeats like the chime of bells. He did not try to speak with Zelda again, but his featureless stare was unnerving anyway. 

“Oh,” said Maca after a moment. “He says he’ll talk to you once you  _ can  _ understand, Princess. He wants to know what happened to the wild spirit in the meantime.”

Zelda swallowed. “He’s—he’s asleep right now. Recovering. From… healing me.”

Satori’s expression—if he was capable of making one—didn’t change. Instead, he made an echoing approximation of a horse’s whinny and stepped past Zelda, disappearing inside the tree. 

Zelda hadn’t noticed the pressure on her mind until he left. 

“Yeah,” said Maca eventually. “Lord Satori’s having a bad time. Come on, Grandfather’s waiting!”

Zelda followed Maca‘s directions, climbing up part of an overarching root and stepping up onto what looked like a sawed-off branch—but who would dare saw off part of the Great Deku Tree? More likely it was a purposeful addition by the giant spirit. A pedestal, perhaps. 

(Zelda knew full well she was trying to distract herself from the nerves, but at least it worked a  _ little  _ bit). 

As soon as Zelda stepped foot on the mini-stump, the tree before her shifted slightly. Maca giggled at the look on her face, but Zelda couldn’t be bothered to get annoyed at being laughed at, not when the Great Deku Tree of legend was coming to life before her. Protruding branches twitched and danced in the breeze, looking for all the world like a mustache underneath an impressive set of eyebrows. An old man’s wheezing cough pushed out of the slablike mouth. Zelda saw no eyes, but she felt the Deku Tree’s gaze regardless. 

“Here’s the princess, Grandfather!” said Maca cheerily. “The wild spirit’s still asleep, though. He needs to heal.”

“That much I could gather,” said the Deku Tree in an even, rumbling voice. He spoke Hylian, to Zelda’s shock—she’d half-expected to have to use spirit-talk, and was slightly relieved to find that wasn’t the case. “You may go, Maca.”

Maca gave Zelda a tiny hug and vanished, leaving her alone on the stump. 

_ Here goes.  _

“Greetings, Great Deku Tree,” she began politely. For some reason, this earned a slight chuckle. 

“No need to be so formal, Princess,” he said cordially. “If anything, I should defer to you—as a child of Hylia, you are far more powerful than I.”

Zelda couldn’t help but blush, which amused the Deku Tree further. “See, a good rest and some lighthearted conversation can do wonders. What is it you have come for, Princess?” 

Zelda swallowed. What to ask first? “Originally, we—Link and I—made the Lost Woods our goal to ask for your blessing. I need to learn spirit-talk.  _ Both  _ versions.”

“Is that so?” said the Deku Tree, his eyebrows raising a good several feet. “My Koroks are my eyes and ears around this continent, but they cannot tell me everything. Do explain what you both have done up until now, if you will.”

So Zelda did just that, doing her best to summarize succinctly the events of the past month or so. The Deku Tree’s expression largely didn’t change (besides his eyebrows) but the shock and apprehension at the back of Zelda’s mind decidedly wasn’t hers. It was almost a relief, really, to feel someone else’s emotions again after being blocked in the castle… almost. 

“You both have traveled far and suffered much, it seems,” said the Deku Tree. “My condolences. No wonder the spirit of the wilds… Link… is so ill.”

Zelda bit her lip guiltily. “It’s… been a hard road, yes.”

“In that case, I see no reason to withhold my assistance,” said the Deku Tree. His next words thrummed with an unseen power, shaking Zelda to her bones.  _ “To you, Princess Zelda of Hyrule, I give my blessing. May the languages of we spirits be open to you, and the paths of empathy and communication yours to traverse.” _

A singular petal floated down from the canopy above, pink and glittering, catching and keeping Zelda’s attention until it fluttered right onto her forehead and stuck. It was like touching something metallic around Urbosa—the contact sent jolts through Zelda’s skin, painless but electrifying, for the half-second the petal remained. Zelda flinched and the petal fell away. 

_ “How is that, Princess?” _

Zelda blinked. The Deku Tree’s mouth hadn’t so much as twitched. 

“It’s-“ Zelda stopped, clearing her throat. She’d have to try the actual language, wouldn’t she—so, with apprehension, she continued in her head. “ _ IT… WORKED?”  _

The Deku Tree smiled, silent affirmation resonating from his mind to hers. 

_ “IT WORKED!”  _ Zelda cheered silently, pumping her fist in midair. She hardly spared a thought to acting so childish in front of such an ancient spirit. The plan had  _ worked,  _ something had gone  _ right,  _ and she could hardly believe it through the giddiness. 

“Still a little loud, but that’s to be expected,” said the Deku Tree. “Link did the same thing when he was learning… you two are quite similar. How else may I help? I have a plan already, but your input is valuable.”

At that, some of Zelda’s elation faded. “That’s… just it. Farosh was trying to give me a message of some kind, as I told you, but there’s no real way for us to get back to him before all hell breaks loose at this rate. What can we do?”

“Farosh is, technically, younger than I,” said the Deku Tree after a moment, “but the being who created them as an extension of herself is older than even the land of Hyrule. Faron’s status as a Golden Goddess allows Farosh to see and know things most beings would not. They can tell, for instance, when an entity will die—being a vassal of the goddess of life will do that.”

Zelda swallowed. “So… Farosh’s message…?”

“You heard them say we will fall, and they told you to seal something…” the Deku Tree mused. “They must know intimately, then, at what point the Yiga’s attacks will overwhelm my fellow spirits. I suspect that day comes very soon. As for your part in this…”

“I know what the powers I… should have inherited are said to do,” said Zelda. She steeled herself to admit her own helplessness. “Farosh wanted me to seal whatever source of evil is plaguing everyone, right? I just—I don’t—I haven’t unlocked it yet.”

“And you won’t,” said the Deku Tree.

“I—what?”

“You won’t—yet. The power of Hylia has been severely weakened by the Yiga’s meddling,” said the Deku Tree. “There is no way to open your connection to Her while this crisis continues, and I suspect She knew that would happen. There’s a reason that Link was given a mortal body with no explanation—there wasn’t time. Hylia’s connection to this mortal plane faded some time ago. She can no longer intervene directly.”

Zelda swallowed. “So. No Goddess powers.”

“None, I’m afraid. The original plan looked nothing like this… I apologize. The responsibility has fallen on your shoulders when it never should have,” said the Deku Tree. “Tell me—among your mother’s notes for you, is there anything of her search for the Hero?”

_ That  _ threw Zelda for a loop. “The—as in the  _ Hero  _ of  _ Courage?  _ Not that I saw, but why?”

The Deku Tree sighed. “It shames me to admit this, but she and I came up with a plan all those years ago… and it was that very plan that lead to your mother’s untimely demise. I believe a variation of that plan  _ could _ work. Do you wish to hear it so that you may judge?”

“I…” Zelda wasn’t sure how to continue. “Yes, do it.”

“In that case, you may want to sit down.”

Zelda did just that, waiting expectantly. 

“Your mother found me many, many years ago, when she was barely older than you are now,” began the Deku Tree. “She followed one of my Koroks and found the usual path quite by accident while on a picnic with her family. As I understand it, the royal guards were quite put out that she slipped away… and quite annoyed when she continued to do so. She was an excellent conversationalist and an even better friend.”

Zelda bit her lip, trying not to show how suddenly choked-up she had gotten.  _ It’s almost funny—Mama did the same thing I do.  _

“But as the years went by… well, she was also rather adept at reading the signs of oncoming disaster, and she recognized what might have been a return of the cycle of the Hero,” said the Deku Tree. “You were barely even a toddler by that point, so your mother was sure that the Goddess-blood princess this time around was  _ her.  _ She came to me, and I suggested she try to find the Hero. I thought… foolishly… that destiny had been kind for once, and that the Hero would be an adult.

“I failed to realize my folly until years later. Your mother, however, made  _ massive  _ progress in tracking down the source—and unfortunately, she was unprepared for the sheer amount of damage it could do. There is no King of Evil this time, merely a shell to hold his power. It seems the years have eroded the Hero’s Curse down to distilled hatred and pain… the substance that now traps many of my fellow spirits is that very curse personified. Malice. Even the Yiga were destroyed by it long ago.”

Zelda held up a hand, stopping the tale. “The Yiga were  _ what?” _

“Destroyed,” said the Deku Tree simply. “Why do you think they ceased to be a problem until recently? Your mother’s death unleashed a horrible backlash upon us spirits… along with a not-insignificant amount of Malice, formerly restrained by her power. That power found the bodies of mortals once overwhelmed by the Curse and brought them back to a half-life.”

_ Our-lord-gave-us-life _

_ And-we-shall-return-the-favor _

Zelda swallowed, remembering the Yiga’s words inside her own head. “So they’ve been biding their time all these years…”

“I had no way of knowing what they were until they showed themselves,” said the Deku Tree. “And the Hero did not show up when your mother tried to combat this threat… therefore, the burden of your mother’s now falls to you.”

“But there’s no hero this time,” said Zelda. “No one who holds the legendary sword, no one named—wait. Could-“

“No,” said the Deku Tree sadly. “Valiant though he is, the spirit of the wilds is not the Hero. He cannot be, for his role in history is quite different… and he is a spirit. The Hero is mortal. Are you unaware of his true role? Or your own, for that matter?”

Zelda could find nothing to say, and it seemed to show. 

“Very well. Link as he is now is just as old as you think—as he thinks, too, since I believe no one has actually told him the other facet of his existence. I should do that… but back to the matter at hand.

“The spirit of the wilds is a new phenomenon. The Hero’s  _ Guide…  _ is not. There is always a being connected to either the Goddess or to the magic of Hyrule whose purpose is to guide the mortal Hero of Courage through the cycle. It began with the being once known as the Fierce Deity… fairies are common agents. Sheikah are common as well, though they tend to stay on the sidelines rather than at the Hero’s side. History has repeated time and again—the Hero steps forward, but not without help.”

Zelda’s mind whirred with the new information. “So Link is the Hero’s Guide? Then where’s the sword? And where’s the Hero? He’s spent all his time with me!”

The Deku Tree paused, shock evident in what Zelda could pick up from him. “Well… I’ll answer your questions in order. The Sword that Seals the Darkness is easily reached. In fact, you’ll be taking it with you when you leave—ah, but now I’ve told you who the Hero is.”

“The…” Zelda blinked, her mouth opening and closing without sound for quite some time. “You mean…  _ I’m…  _ but-!”

“You hold the entire sealed Triforce, as your ancestors have for centuries now,” said the Deku Tree, halting her protests. “Both Courage and Wisdom lie within you—and Power, of course, but that’s somewhat less relevant. You are the descendant of the Goddess. You are she who is joined by the current Hero’s Guide. You are determined in the face of obstacles, intelligent in the face of confusion, and courageous in the face of adversity.”

“I…”

“And most of all, Princess,” said the Deku Tree, “you were directed by the Goddess to save Hyrule, and you followed without hesitation. What does that make you, if not the Hero  _ and  _ the legendary princess all in one?”

Zelda remained silent, utterly lost for words at the revelation. 

“I have seen many heroes come and go,” said the Deku Tree. “You are unique among them. That gives me  _ hope,  _ Princess… hope that you will be the one who finally manages to end this cycle. There is no refusing destiny. Regardless… do you accept?”

“What’s the point in asking?” Zelda said weakly, “if there’s no point refusing?”

“I like to ask,” said the Deku Tree. “Destiny is a cruel thing, Princess. Goddesses cannot understand the emotions of mortals. Goddesses never ask. I… would like to be the person who does.”

Still Zelda could not find the words—and that wasn’t lost on the Deku Tree. 

“Remember, you can speak in the most truthful language there is,” he said. “Answer with that, and I will understand.”

So, instead of words, Zelda folded her hands to comfort herself and tried to let  _ feelings  _ flow. For a long moment nothing came. Her mind remained too jumbled to reach out properly, too—too-

_ Confused. I don’t know where I’m supposed to go from here… I don’t know what Link’s done to himself, I don’t know how to get my father away from the Yiga’s influence, I don’t know how to handle people’s trust in me, I don’t know how to stop this, and that… _

_ It scares me. I’m afraid, afraid Link won’t get better, that I’ll die trying to fix Hyrule and fail in the process, that I’ll truly be the heir to a throne of failure, that I’ll let down everyone who’s sacrificed so much to help me move farther, and…  _

_ I’m guilty. Link got hurt over me, Robbie and Purah got hurt over me, Impa had to leave to protect me, and I’ve done nothing, made no progress to justify that, all I’ve done is exist and need protection, and… _

_ I’m angry. I’m furious that  _ anyone  _ would  _ dare  _ endanger my country and my people and the spirits I’m supposed to guard, furious that the Yiga took over my father’s mind and twisted him, furious that they dared hurt the last friend I’ve got left with me,  _ beyond  _ livid that their master is what killed my mother and took her from me, and…  _

_ And I want to do something about that. I want to act. I hate being helpless, I hate always running—it’s time to turn around and face things, to stop letting the people I care about be my shield and start protecting  _ them  _ for a change.  _

_ I’m ready.  _

_ I want to be the Hero.  _

When Zelda opened her eyes, it was to the concerned face of Maca and the realization that she’d fallen over while trying to unearth what she wanted to say. An excitable chitter filled her brain—Maca’s “voice”, asking without words if she was okay, how was she feeling, did she want to go talk to Satori now or later, he knew what was up with Link-

_ AM OKAY,  _ Zelda managed, wincing when it came out “louder” than intended. Maca didn’t seem to mind. He jumped onto Zelda’s shoulder again when she got to her feet, seemingly having adopted her as a free transport. “ _ You’re lucky you’re cute, my friend.” _

Amusement, and just that, came through from Maca. Zelda let it mbe. 

“You seem to be switching between elder and younger dialects rather quickly,” noted the Deku Tree. “I wonder… ah, that’s why. You don’t have to try so hard to use the elder, Princess. The younger comes to you much easier. Simply let your thoughts flow where they will to communicate—you have no need of the elder just yet.”

Zelda nodded, unwilling to speak around the lump in her throat. She felt like her insides had been scrubbed out with saltwater—cleansed, yes, but it stung a bit. 

“Sometimes letting go hurts more than holding on,” said the Deku Tree sagely, noticing her discomfort. “You are often better off in the long run, however.”

“Should I-“ Zelda’s voice cracked, and she took a moment to clear her throat. “The sword. You said it’s nearby…?”

“It is. You need not worry. I recommend you take some time to cool down and check on Link,” said the Deku Tree. “I’m more than a little concerned about his condition. A  _ blessing  _ should not cause such lethargy… though, in times like these…”

“I understand,” said Zelda. “Thank you. For everything.”

“I accept your thanks,” said the Deku Tree graciously, “but you might wish to withhold them until you know for sure my assistance helped finish this business.”

Zelda had no words for that—not because she couldn’t find them, but because they weren’t there in the first place. She nodded and climbed down, noting that it had barely been an hour. 

_ Funny. It felt like a week…  _

“Lord Satori’s a little grumpy,” said Maca as Zelda made her way back inside the inn. “He basically  _ raised _ the wild spirit for a while there. He’s just worried, so don’t get scared!”

The raw concern and anger emanating from the room where Link slept was enough to make Zelda doubt Maca’s reassurances, but she shouldered on regardless. She was just as worried, after all. 

**_You._ **

Zelda winced as soon as she made it within Satori’s notice, freezing in her tracks like an unfortunate bug caught in a cucco’s sightline. Something about his yellow eyes, featureless as they were, sent a bolt of primal fear straight through to Zelda’s core. How Link slept on while Satori stood over him with those eyes, Zelda didn’t know, but that glare… 

Wait—Satori was doing that on  _ purpose.  _

_ “Could you please not do that?”  _ Zelda said, trying to focus on letting her thoughts flow. It was strange, mastering spirit-talk so quickly after so long of trying and gaining so little. 

**_I do as I please for those I care about, mortal. What happened to him?_ ** Satori’s odd antlers—antennae, really—flicked about in the air, betraying his annoyance.  **_He is barely responsive. He can speak, but I cannot get details before he fades back into sleeping. It’s as if he’s being drained of power by an outside force. So… what happened?_ **

Zelda swallowed and explained what Link had done for her as quickly as possible. Saying it to the Deku Tree had been simpler—it seemed Satori was either far more attached to Link or less squeamish about showing his power to scare her. It was probably both. Still, the unnatural fear receded slightly a moment later. 

_ He’s an idiot,  _ said Satori after a tense moment had passed.  _ He’s as good as my own, but he’s an idiot. He  _ knows  _ how our magic works… picture a waterskin filled to bursting, if you will. What happens when a tiny rip appears in the seam, strong enough to hold but large enough to allow water to escape? _

_ “The water escapes,”  _ said Zelda. 

_ And what happens when the rip is too small for the pressure and the volume of the water? _

_ “The… the rip bursts open.” _

_ Exactly. Link pushed too hard.  _ Satori’s antennae flicked once more, but this time, it was with worry.  _ His ability to retain magical reserves is greatly reduced to the point of being nearly unusable. It’s taking him too long to recover even a tiny amount of magic… all because he chose to force a blessing on someone not within his domain.  _

There was that terrifying glare again. 

**_Do you understand the severity of this situation? Do you understand that he might not properly recover for an unthinkable amount of time?_ **

_ “I do,”  _ said Zelda weakly. With some hesitation, she opened her mind the way she just had with the Deku Tree, letting Satori see the guilt and the shame that had plagued her ever since Link admitted what he had done—and ever since he had collapsed in her arms, still trusting her enough to know they were safe. Trusting her anyway. 

Satori did not respond for some time, his antennae twitching furiously.  _ He is growing into himself, as you are. He… should recover, but he cannot use magic until he does. No blessings, no curses, no innate abilities granted by the wilds, nothing. Goddess knows that will be a hard rule to enforce. _

Zelda giggled slightly, knowing from experience that Link could be  _ petty  _ when he felt like it.  _ “I’ll help.” _

_ Of course. My apologies for being harsh, I…  _

_ “I understand.” _

Satori made the mental equivalent of a sigh, leaning down to briefly nuzzle Link’s head.  _ What will you do in the meantime? It will take him at least a day to be coherent again.  _

“Oh!” Zelda said aloud, having entirely forgotten her new mission.  _ “You‘ve reminded me—I have to ask the Deku Tree where the legendary sword is.” _

_ You mean the sword of the Hero?  _ Satori tilted his head to one side curiously.  _ Does that not rest in this very forest? I recall the Hero before you quite sharply. Link blessed that fellow too, and often guided his hand in battle—though that Hero preferred his own greatsword, he used the legendary one as well, and laid it to rest here. Unless I remember incorrectly…  _

_ “In this forest? Are you sure?” _

_ Of course. The Deku Tree is the safest spirit to stand with. Why else would I let my Blupees run about here during a crisis like this? _

Zelda recalled just how strong the barrier of the Lost Woods was and nodded.  _ “Should have figured. Now  _ where _ in the woods is the question…”  _

Satori trotted into Zelda’s path, preventing her from leaving.  _ Hold on. I remember now—that sword is also a fantastic source of protective sealing power. Should you remove her…  _

Her?

_...What will happen to the Lost Woods? _

“Huh? Oh,  _ that  _ sword,” said Maca breezily. He seemed to have been utterly tuned out of the conversation in favor of making a new pinwheel out of leaves. “She’s nice—but Lord Satori’s right. She’s helping hold back the Yiga. Do you really need the sword that bad?”

Zelda swallowed. “You’re certain?”

“Grandfather told me,” said Maca with all the childish solemnity he could muster. “The Master Sword is what’s keeping up the strong barrier. Without it, the Yiga could find their way through without any losses. Her magic keeps theirs away—like, uh… two magnets, but the kind that repel each other.”

A simplistic description, but Zelda got the message. 

_So. What will you do, then?_ Satori’s full, undivided attention was still off-putting, but at least he wasn't trying to freeze her in place anymore. _If that sword allows your hand to wield her—which I’m sure she will—you will have to run and get to the bottom_ _of things before the Deku Tree and I fall. So long as even one spirit remains active and unharmed, Hyrule can be saved._

_ “So that would leave just me and Link…” _

_ You, him, and the sword, actually. All fallible, and all weakened,  _ said Satori worriedly.  _ So? Drawing the sword now would be unwise, but we spirits have precious little time. If the origin of all our problems truly is the Hero’s Curse, you cannot win without the sword. This  _ is _ a predicament…  _

Zelda put aside the tidbit about the Hero’s legendary sword containing—or being—a spirit and thought about it. Link needed time to recuperate. At  _ least  _ a day, probably more. She needed time to plan, and commiserate with the Deku Tree, and recover from the intense physical stress of the past couple days. 

“I’ll wait,” she said aloud out of habit.  _ “Until we can safely move… assuming we have that kind of time. Two days.” _

_ And after? I can keep myself safe for a day after leaving the safety of this forest, but no longer. The Deku Tree will fall under their influence in less than half that time.  _

_ “And after that,”  _ said Zelda firmly,  _ “I’ll draw the Master Sword, and I’ll end all of this.” _

_ I am not so old as to have seen more than one cycle of the Hero,  _ said Satori.  _ However… you are different. Unique. The pattern is breaking… perhaps I won’t have to see another cycle ever again. For your sake, mine, and everyone in this land, I hope you can be fast enough. _

_ “I will be. I can’t afford to be too slow.” _


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not gonna pretend like i didn’t take forever to get this out. Good old-fashioned braincell malfunctions. I would post an warning if I ever really abandoned this fic, though, so unless that happens there’s no need to worry. I intend to see this through! Thanks for sticking with me <3

Dreaming wasn’t  _ strictly  _ a mortal thing. Spirits simply didn’t sleep often enough—or deeply enough—to shut down in that manner. When they did… it was far from a good sign. Link wasn’t even sure how to  _ identify  _ dreaming when it came from his own mind.

No,  _ her _ mind. She could tell that much even through the haze. 

But the haze of what? Utterly nonsensical colors and sounds? Emotions she hadn’t ever felt? A world that shifted away beneath her feet like the deepest sands of the Gerudo Desert? Dreams made  _ no  _ sense. 

Unless… they were memories. Link had more in common with Zelda than she thought, being so consumed by history.

—

_ The spirit had no name or face, and very little domain. She preferred to spend her endless time rectifying that however possible. That blue horselike spirit, Satori… he had been insistent that the new spirit of the wilds get around and make herself known. Of course, having died an already-revered mortal and become a spirit that way, Satori had no idea how a typical spirit went about doing that.  _

Talk to others,  _ he’d suggested.  _ Other spirits. The Deku Tree will help you find your words, but the Great Fairies can help if you wish to have more mortals know of you. Do… stay out of grabbing distance, and away from Malanya.

“Why… Malanya?”

I doubt the horse god will take well to a new spirit whose domain includes horses. They can be… vocal, about their displeasure. 

_ Naturally, having been warned to avoid Malanya, the spirit rapidly went about doing the exact opposite. Tabantha to Faron was a multi-day journey for most mortals (besides the Rito) but for the spirit, it was a matter of minutes—and it only took so long because Faron was outside of their domain. It wouldn’t be for long, if she had her way. The lush forests and dense aura of natural magic around Faron was too alluring to ignore. If she could just figure out how to extend her domain…  _

_ But, of course, not all of Faron was uninhabited wilderness. The last of the Zonai did  _ so _ love the jungle—their race would die out there if they had any say of it. Not even the royal family of Hyrule could make them move out. Instead, their commanding stone-brick structures melded with the jungle, determined to be swallowed by it one day. The spirit might not have fully understood what the “dwindling population issue” meant, but whatever the Zonai were suffering, they knew how to cherish nature.  _

_ The Horse God’s spring was one of the few places the Zonai dared not build, perhaps out of respect for the spirit who resided there. Fairies—adjacent to Malanya’s domain, if not quite in it—flitted about the center of the hollow mountain, leaving trails of pink magic and dodging the occasional daring bird (the spirit made sure to tell nearby hawks not to hunt fairies as she arrived).  _

_ Malanya themself was not yet active when the spirit settled atop the surrounding rocks, however. Instead their spring glowed in the midday sun, gently giving off sparkles of well-fed spring magic. Malanya had been paid tribute recently, then. Whose poor horse had been yanked back from death? Hopefully someone who knew to comfort the poor animal.  _

_ The spirit was in the middle of debating how to wake Malanya when a new arrival came clanking up the bridge. Intrigued, the spirit stopped fantasizing about dropping right into the spring to say hello and settled atop one of the leafy trees flanking the entrance to Malanya’s bridge, watching. She didn’t recognize the mortal whose distinctly-Zonai armor announced his presence, but she recognized the power in the sword strapped to his back and the type of blood plastering his chestplate and hair. _

Lizalfos blood,  _ she noted, watching him stumble to the spring.  _ And what might be some of his own. What’s the Hero of Courage doing getting laid low like this? Don’t the mortals need him?

_ Something about the elegantly sheathed sword bothered the spirit. It held unmistakable power, yes, but also… thought. Consciousness. The sword itself was known to the spirit—but was there more to the Master Sword than met the eye?  _

_ If there was some sort of mind within the sword, it refused to react to the spirit’s prodding as the Hero stepped up to the spring. He collapsed to one knee, breathing heavily, and reached to the pouch at his side which clinked along with his armor.  _

_ “Great spirit, I beg your help,” he said in the Zonai tongue, his voice rumbling like a stormfront in the still air.  _

_ For a moment, nothing happened.  _

_ Then a rumble shook the very ground and a spring-bound spirit burst from the magic waters with a rattling cackle, shaking out bone-dry barkcloth and linen wrappings and disembodied, clawed hands. A facsimile of a horse’s face with a Lynel’s mane covered Malanya’s true face—if the Horse God even had one. Stunned, the spirit moved not an inch as Malanya’s overwhelming presence filled the area. _

_ In retrospect, listening to Satori might have been a better idea.  _

_ “And which disrespectful mortal comes before me now?” said Malanya, mirroring the Hero’s use of Zonai in their terrifying voice. It shook in the air, vibrating somehow with a sound like a horse’s angry whinny and destabilizing the spirit’s limited power. “Killed a horse, have you? Driven it to the ground or off a cliff? Let irresponsible mortal  _ stablehands  _ take care of it?” _

_ “Never, Horse God. I was attacked on the road,” said the Hero, his breathing staggering. Had he made straight for the spring without seeking medical attention? If so, the spirit had a new mortal to bless—that was quite a bit of devotion to a horse. “The monsters… lately-“ _

_ “Yes, yes, they’ve gotten annoying,” said Malanya dismissively. “Was it your negligence that got your steed slain? If so, as payment, I might be forced to… EAT YOU!” _

_ Even the trees shook at Malanya’s bellow, but the Hero didn’t stir from his place kneeling at the foot of the spring. Commendable, considering the massive hands hovering right over his shoulders, ready to scoop him up.  _

_ “Yes,” he said morosely. “If I had seen the spear that Lizalfos held sooner… but I didn’t. I beg of you, return him to me.” _

_ But Malanya had stopped their ominous shaking over the Hero—not disinterested in his speech, but distracted. “Hm… it seems we have an audience. You’ll get your companion back, mortal, but I have business first. YOU!” _

_ Without warning, some alien force pushed the spirit’s incorporeal mass from the tree, yanking her right into Malanya’s outstretched hand.  _

“HEY!”

_ The spirit tugged at the hand holding her in place to no avail—Malanya’s grip was not only physical, but magical, preventing anything from getting in or out of a certain barrier.  _

_ “Aha, what have we here? A spy? A wee spirit, too young to know better?” Malanya said, their voice shaking the air once again with gleeful curiosity.  _

_ “...Great Malanya?” said the Hero, watching the Horse God hold what should have looked like nothing to him. The spirit wasn’t concerned about the Hero seeing her, but she  _ hated  _ being restrained—and Malanya could tell, they just didn’t care enough to free her.  _

_ “Hm? Ah, your eyes can’t see what’s there, even with that legend’s sword and your great destiny,” cackled Malanya. “Well, O Interloper? Are you too young to take physical form?” _

_ The spirit struggled for a moment more before responding, figuring that it might make Malanya free her quicker.  _ “I cannot.”

You don’t speak the elder tongue either? Honestly, who sent you to me? Hmph. 

“Lord Satori.”

And what is your domain, then?  _ Malanya tilted their head curiously as they spoke, ignoring the extremely-confused Hero at the base of their spring.  _ Go on.

“The wilds, mostly around what the mortals call the Great Plateau,”  _ said the spirit quickly.  _ “All who travel through them, too. Horses.”

_ Malanya remained still as the dead, not even their skirts shifting in the breeze.  _ Horses. Is that so.

“Yes, they like me. I can bless mortals for their sake,”  _ said the spirit somewhat hesitantly. Malanya’s hand was tightening around her—and though she didn’t feel pain, the twisting of the Horse God’s aura was uncomfortable. _

_ Oh. Horse God. She really  _ had  _ been an idiot to come here.  _

_ “Great Malanya? Does the spirit you hold…  _ want  _ to be in that position?” _

_ Malanya’s mask whipped towards the hero like a predator locking onto its prey. “Not particularly. I suppose I should accept your offering now before this upstart tries something stupid like fighting me. Come on, out with it!” _

_ The Hero slowly emptied his pouch of rupees, squinting in the general direction of the spirit. Had Malanya’s grip not been so tight, she would have made herself visible—if only to look pitiful and try to escape that way.  _

_ “Ah, perfect,” said Malanya, snatching the rupees with their free hand. “Hm. I need space to dance… don’t you  _ dare  _ move an inch, upstart.” _

_ They unceremoniously cast the spirit to the side of their spring, where she found herself stuck fast by magic. The spirit missed Malanya’s dance to bring back the Hero’s horse entirely—too busy struggling to break free.  _

_ The final burst of magic distracted her as suddenly a gorgeous black warhorse stood proudly beside the Hero, tossing his coppery-bright mane with a whinny. The spirit ceased struggling to gape at the magnificent horse—and at the Hero, who instantly rushed to his steed to coo over him and hug his neck.  _

_ Malanya twitched, staring at the spirit.  _ Well, little upstart. I suppose you do truly care for horses—not that I like it! They’ve already got a guardian!

“I guard other things. I’m known as the spirit of the wilds, not that of horses,”  _ said the spirit, pushing again at her bonds. To her surprise, they weakened and shattered, leaving her to drop off the spring.  _

_ “Thank you, Horse God,” said the Hero, not seeming to realize that the spirit was still there. “From the bottom of my heart-“ _

_ “Just treat that horse right from now on, understand?” said Malanya sternly. “He’s one of mine now. If anything else happens to him… I will know.” _

_ For all his storied courage, the Hero looked cowed. “Of course, Horse God. Er… one more thing…” _

_ “You want to know about this upstart, don’t you?” Malanya pointed to the spirit, who hadn’t dared move yet. “Just some newbie calling herself the spirit of the wilds… and  _ horses.”

“I meant no insult,”  _ said the spirit weakly, switching her focus away from the Hero’s horse. Malanya sorted derisively.  _

_ The Hero glanced between Malanya and a spot somewhere to the left of the spirit, then nodded slowly. “Right. Well-“ _

_ Whatever he had been about to say was cut off not by Malanya, but his horse—who trotted right over to where the spirit huddled and whuffed, nosing the air around the spirit. She chuckled and gave the horse a gentle pat on the neck in greeting.  _

_ “Charcoal, come on, we’re meant to meet Naboris’ champion by tomorrow,” said the Hero somewhat helplessly. His horse whickered at him and refused to move, enjoying the spirit’s presence too much.  _

_ “Hmph. I defer to a horse’s judgement,” said Malanya after a moment. “You! Upstart! Never presume to enter my domain without leave again, you hear me? And don’t interfere with the horses directly under my influence!” _

_ The spirit hurriedly darted to the top of the mountain and agreed from there, ignoring how the Hero gaped at their conversation. However interesting he was, the spirit would rather be literally anywhere else—so she left, despite the odd gleam in the Hero’s eye and the way his sword seemed to chime.  _

—

_ “-and the hero bravely faced the evil king’s phantom when the temple was through! With a YAH and a HAH he struck down each fake until the real one finally faced him. Guess what happened next, Miss Hero!” _

Zelda stifled a giggle at the Koroks’…  _ enterprising  _ tableau, with sticks for swords and several Koroks stacked on top of each other to mimic the evil king’s height. It was quite possibly the most enjoyable language practice she’d ever taken part in. 

_ “Well, I don’t know,”  _ she said with exaggerated confusion.  _ “What?” _

_ “The hero defeated the phantom!”  _ said the Korok at the bottom of the evil-king stack.  _ “And the great Saria rose to power as a sage!” _

_ “I’m narrating! Ahem. And the great Saria rose to power as a sage!” _

_ “You should have just continued from there-“ _

“I’m _ the narrator, Pepp!” _

_ “Ah, I have a question,”  _ said Zelda hurriedly, hoping to break up the argument. Every Korok on the raised root that served as a “stage” turned to her, chittering curiously.  _ “Which one was Saria again?” _

She remembered, of course, but the Koroks weren’t delving into her mind just then—they couldn’t tell she was lying. 

_ “One of our ancestors, of course!”  _ said Maca, whose spot on Zelda’s shoulder was rapidly becoming a staple of their conversations.  _ “The greatest Kokiri ever!” _

_ “What about the Hero of that era?”  _ wondered the Korok in the middle of the evil-king stack.  _ “He was pretty great.” _

_ “He was Hylian, not Kokiri!”  _ said Pepp, shaking the stack from his place at the bottom.  _ “Did you chase butterflies during Grandfather’s lessons again, Kula?” _

_ “Yes, that Hero,”  _ said Zelda, interrupting yet another spat.  _ “What became of him?” _

Here was a question she  _ didn’t  _ know the answer to—and it certainly stopped the spat, though not the way Zelda intended. The Koroks trying to help her practice spirit-talk all shifted awkwardly, flurries of unidentifiable emotions and concepts flying too fast for Zelda to catch. 

_ “No one knows for sure,”  _ said Maca at last.  _ “Heroes, ah… don’t usually get nice endings, after everything. They say he grew up on the outside but not the inside, and the Lost Woods only recognized the outside.” _

When the Lost Woods were on high alert—or simply older than roughly fifteen thousand years, as Zelda had learned—they didn’t take kindly to wandering adults. Zelda swallowed as her mother’s warning about living skeletons ran through her mind. 

_ “They also say he really did grow up,”  _ said Pepp, a hopeful undercurrent carrying his words.  _ “He had a life!” _

_ “That’s the history we just told her, though,”  _ said Kula.  _ “He disappeared, too—in the history we came from!” _

_ “He failed, too, in another history,”  _ said Maca sadly.  _ “Hyrule’s history twists up around Heroes. Grandfather’s lessons are kind of confusing sometimes…” _

Zelda knew full well the history of her homeland was about as straightforward as the average plate of noodles, but she had never considered that spirits might know more about the exact intricacies. It had  _ also  _ never occurred to her that the legacy of Heroes was typically to disappear after their job was done, either to be called upon once more or to die outside the eyes of history. 

It was sobering, knowing that was her burden now. 

_ “Yeah, but you’ll be okay,”  _ said Maca, reminding Zelda that her thought process and her speech were now essentially one and the same to those who paid attention—even though Maca  _ hadn’t  _ been doing that a moment ago .  _ “The cycle’s different. There’s never been a Hero like you!” _

_ “What, a young woman?”  _ said Zelda, managing a tiny grin. 

_ “Well—that too,”  _ said Maca with a jingling laugh. 

_ “The Hero isn’t  _ strictly  _ a man-mortal,”  _ said Pepp helpfully.  _ “Mortals just like to put things in boxes.” _

_ “You’re different since you’re descended from the Goddess, you have the Hero’s Spirit,  _ and  _ you have the blood of a Hero too!”  _ said Maca.  _ “The very first Hero started Hylia’s royal line, you know. And now you’re here! The  _ ultimate  _ Hero! I’m honored to witness you.” _

_ “I can’t access my power from the Goddess, though,”  _ said Zelda, tracing the back of her hand. There was a tiny bruise there from some scrape or another, and a stubborn bit of dirt, but no holy power. 

_ “The Master Sword will be all the power you need,”  _ said Maca optimistically. 

Zelda didn’t need to use spirit-talk for her apprehension to get across, even though she didn’t want the cheery Koroks to be as afraid for the future as she was. She would draw the sword, and she would use it to the best of her ability—no more hiding. 

But would she  _ succeed? _

The Korok tower before her wobbled and fell apart, the participating Koroks giggling as they fell to the ground and scattered. Zelda was left with Maca on her shoulder and only  _ slight  _ confusion as to what had made them leave—there was an unmistakable presence approaching, and the Koroks considered him “too stuffy” to have storytime with. 

_ I see your… lessons… are going well so far,  _ said Satori conversationally. As always, his steps across the mossy floor of the Lost Woods rang like muffled cymbals through the faint mist his presence created. Zelda enjoyed the almost-music that came with his magic—it was calming, more so than any of the meditation she’d ever done under the eyes of a Goddess statue.

_ “They’re certainly going,”  _ said Zelda with a slight grin and a shrug.  _ “How’s Link?” _

Satori made an echoey gonging noise that  _ might  _ have been laughter. It could also have been his equivalent of clearing his throat, but Zelda wasn’t about to ask.  _ Sleeping like a stone. She seems to be recovering, though her hair will make an excellent rat’s nest when she’s done… _

_ “She? How can you tell there was a shift?” _

_ You cannot? Ah, you are still practicing. All a part of the empathy of spirit-talk,  _ said Satori, elegantly stepping around and settling down into the moss before Zelda. A Blupee popped out of nowhere to sit on the root that had been a “stage” mere moments before, chattered something at Maca, and disappeared. 

_ “He challenged me to play tag!”  _ Maca leapt from Zelda’s shoulder and disappeared as well, leaving behind only echoes of his giggling. 

_ Energetic creatures,  _ said Satori after a moment.  _ Sometimes I wonder how I became their guardian. My Blupees love to play pranks just as much as Koroks—they just tend to do so to  _ me.

Zelda hurriedly stifled a giggle, but Satori knew she was laughing anyway. There was a downside to speaking with spirits on their own terms. 

_ “I wouldn’t know,”  _ she said lightly.  _ “I’m just a mortal. Goddess knows I don’t understand half the obligations of a spirit.” _

_ And few spirits would understand  _ your _ concerns. You know, I was a mortal once.  _

Zelda blinked, a little surprised that Satori treated it like a secret.  _ “I do know. Your origin is no mystery to the royal family.” _

_ As such, I know precisely what impending death feels like,  _ he continued, gracefully ignoring her interruption.  _ I know what it feels like to have a finish line on one’s life. The Deku Tree is a dear friend, but he does not truly understand the natural fear of death mortals are born with—in fact, none of my brethren do. They have loved and lost mortals in their own way, yes… but they do not understand what it is to die.  _

Zelda said nothing, getting the sense Satori was having trouble admitting this. 

_ To draw that sword is to spell doom for these woods,  _ he said.  _ I hope and pray you will be successful, and that the influence of the Yiga will not last long enough to kill or irreparably harm any of us… but there is the chance. The Hero always wins, but not necessarily as an individual. History has shown that one Hero can fail and pass the exact same quest on to the next poor mortal of Hylia’s choosing.  _

_ “How optimistic,”  _ said Zelda.  _ “I can’t afford to lose here, though. I won’t let it end like this.” _

_ Ah, and that is precisely where my experience as a mortal is overshadowed by my experience as Lord of the Mountain. My life could easily be defined by its end, Hero, for am I not greater than I was? Mortals do so love defining a story by how it ends. The thing is… I would never have become a spirit if it were not for the  _ middle  _ of my story. The end is defined by what comes before it.  _

_ “Oh,”  _ said Zelda simply. She didn’t need to try and form words for Satori to understand how much she appreciated the advice.  _ Now  _ she understood where he’d been going—and why Link tended to refer to him as “confusing”. 

_ The best way to make sure you have a good ending,  _ said Satori,  _ is to set it up in the middle. Prepare, while you have a chance. Everyone here will help you. You are not alone.  _

Zelda swallowed a sudden lump in her throat, infinitely glad that she didn’t have to speak aloud.  _ “Thank you.” _

_ Of course. _

—

_ After the incident with Malanya, the spirit was far from eager to meet more of her brethren. Satori had felt powerful, yes, but not so strong as to restrain her! No more sightseeing for a while. She’d do something else to gain power.  _

_ Though… the Hero had been interesting. She’d never gotten around to blessing him for being so devoted to a horse. No mortal could do what Malanya had done, magic possibly-sentient sword or no… For all her apprehension, the spirit was a curious soul, especially when it came to mortal affairs. Why not go see what the Hero was up to? _

_ Talking to himself, as it turned out. And his horse. And his sword.  _

_ The spirit couldn’t help but wonder if the Hero actually had friends or not.  _

_ “You’d think this would be a much simpler task. Just  _ don’t  _ startle me when I’m busy, alright?” _

_ The Hero’s dark eyes seemed to glimmer sharply like the edge of a cut diamond in the late afternoon light. His profile, outlined by the sun’s last rays, was even sharper. Dying out the Zonai might have been—but the Hero of their blood was no less imposing for it.  _

_ If he hadn’t been arguing with a glowing sword while sitting cross-legged like a mortal toddler, he would have been scarier.  _

_ “No, I knew it was there,” he said sternly, holding up the scabbard and firmly jabbing his finger at the gemstone on the pommel. The spirit hovered idly over Charcoal the warhorse, running invisible fingers through his mane while the Hero argued with a sword.  _

_ A sword that  _ chimed  _ in response.  _

_ There was definitely some type of soul in there, but whatever manner of soul it was, the spirit couldn’t hear it. The sword’s words were only for the Hero.  _

_ “Why do you always state the obvious? I’m an adult, you know. I can handle myself. Nothing around a warrior is secret—I know my surroundings as intimately as the back of my hand, and I need no magic-“ _

_ Another chime.  _

_ “What?” The Hero stiffened and unknowingly looked directly at the spirit. “Charcoal, are you making fun of me? Is there really a spirit on your back?” _

_ At the spirit’s prompting (though it took more time than usual, oddly enough) Charcoal whickered at the Hero in a mock laugh.  _

_ “That’s not an answer, my friend,” said the Hero, laying his sword down across his folded legs. “Erm… what did the Horse God call you… spirit of the wilds?” _

_ The sword chimed once more, though its words were hidden from the spirit again. She didn’t care too much about that—what did the Hero want? _

“Who are you?”  _ she tried, broadcasting loudly at the sword. Nothing. Perhaps the sword only spoke that odd, stilted dialect Satori had used… if so, the spirit would just ignore it. She had no way of learning that language yet, so there was no point.  _

_ “She says you’re young,” said the Hero after the sword had chimed once more. “I didn’t know spirits could be young.” _

“Can you hear me?”  _ said the spirit again to the sword.  _

_ “She can hear you.” The Hero almost made eye contact—almost. “What are you watching me for? Shouldn’t Her Highness get all the spiritual attention?” _

_ In lieu of response, the spirit decided to spend a little bit of her meager power and summoned her best apparition—and if her ghostly Hylian form looked a little smug lounging atop the Hero’s horse like a beachgoer in a sunchair, well. That was fine. Intended, even. She loved to make an entrance just as much as Malanya did.  _

_ To his credit, the Hero didn’t jump or flinch at the sudden glowing vaguely-humanoid on his horse. Rather, he raised an eyebrow and propped his sword up in the dirt, angling the gemstone towards the spirit as if it were an eye—and perhaps it was.  _

_ “Do you have an actual name, then?” asked the Hero.  _

_ The spirit shook her head.  _

_ “Well, mine is Link. But I suspect you know that.” _

_ She didn’t, actually, but the spirit shrugged and pretended otherwise. Mortals seemed to think every spirit was all-knowing—why ruin the illusion? _

_ “You didn’t know that, did you?” said the Hero after the sword chimed again.  _

“You’re a snitch,”  _ said the spirit instantly, sticking her tongue out at the sword. She forgot that the Hero could see her, though, and his barking laugh shattered the silence.  _

_ “You really  _ are _ young,” he said with wonder. Had it been condescension, the spirit might have just disappeared then and there. Instead, curiosity and awe were all that lived in the Hero’s eyes. “Incredible. Born just in time to witness the end of the world, eh?” _

_ The spirit tilted her head to one side curiously. She vaguely knew  _ why  _ the mortals were mobilizing like ants before a storm—and she’d heard plenty who prayed to any and every spirit listening to preserve them—but the  _ Hero  _ of all mortals making a joke about failure? Odd.  _

_ “What, you think I’m immortal like you? I’m not,” said the Hero, a tiny laugh on his lips. It didn’t seem genuine. “Far from it, in fact. What’s coming is much bigger than me.” _

_ The spirit wasn’t sure what to say to that.  _

_ “Ah, but I’m being fatalistic again. Can’t fail, can I?” said the Hero, patting the hilt of his sword. Once more, his grin was insincere. A mortal like this would benefit from peace of mind…  _

“I  _ did  _ come here for a reason,”  _ said the spirit to Charcoal, idly patting the warhorse’s side.  _ “What do you think?”

_ Charcoal made a contented nicker, giving his approval.  _

_ The Hero didn’t move while the spirit smoothly rolled off of his horse’s back and half-walked half-hovered towards him, though he did cock a bushy brow in confusion. Evidently the sword hadn’t relayed the spirit’s purpose just yet. Even when the spirit stopped before him and laid a blurry hand over his forehead, the Hero did not move—except to bow his head and close his eyes, perhaps receiving the message. _

“I bless you. May luck follow you, may the wilds guide your heart, and may your weapons never fail you when you need them,”  _ said the spirit with both words and the indescribable not-speech of her own language. Charcoal stopped in the process of eating lunch. Nearby birds ceased singing and fluttered onto branches to watch.  _

_ It seemed like the whole world was watching, but it was really just that tiny corner of Faron, and the spirit preferred it that way.  _

_ Perhaps the blessing would be effective, and perhaps it would simply serve as a placebo. The spirit was still working on such things—but even so, something told her the blessing was meant to happen somehow. Odd.  _

“Tell him it’s because he’s so nice to his horse,”  _ she said to the sword. With that, the spirit raised one ghostly hand into the air and cleanly snapped her fingers, disappearing from mortal sight just as the Hero looked up.  _

_ Seeing him gasp and leap to his feet at her disappearance was absolutely  _ hilarious  _ to the spirit, who struggled not to accidentally let on about her presence as she giggled silently.  _

_ “Where did—how?” The Hero whipped around, blinking owlishly. “Spirits…” _

_ The spirit gave one last chuckle and started to leave- _

_ “You know, the sword knows you’re still here!” _

_ The Hero got a parting rude gesture for that—not that he saw it.  _

_ That day was the beginning of… well, something. The spirit hadn’t found a mortal she could properly talk with before then, or one who was so fascinating to follow around (and mess with). She couldn’t even speak the way he did—but the spirit within the sword didn’t seem to mind translating, and the Hero only cared about talking.  _

_ No, Link. He’d asked to be called by name—“Enough people just call me a hero. Hero of what? I haven’t vanquished anything yet!”  _

_ Link was a curious mortal, prone to oversharing, spoiling his horse rotten, and being so overtly friendly that even the monsters driven mad by the oncoming evil seemed to stop for a moment before trying to kill him (they tried quite hard, but the spirit’s blessing held). He enjoyed “good food and good company”, and somehow, he made everyone feel like good company.  _

_ His fellow defenders of Hyrule, the Champions of the fantastic Sheikah-made machines which thrummed with the energy of the land, counted as “good company” even in the spirit’s eyes. She never showed herself to them (it was too fun watching the sharp-eyed Rito completely miss her presence) but they were fascinating to follow around.  _

_ And mess with, of course. _

_ “Line here… shade… AHA!” _

_ Link proudly brandished his piece of parchment in his fellow Champion’s face. Leaban, a Gerudo warrior whose young age belied her true strength, squinted at the sketchy drawing. “Your spirit friend is… a blob with teeth? Are you sure you haven’t befriended some new breed of ChuChu?” _

_ “What? No!” Insulted, Link snatched his parchment back and rather dramatically cast his quill into the grass. The spirit caught a glimpse of the attempted portrait from her spot in an overhanging branch and snorted—it really did look like a ChuChu.  _

_ “Well, I still haven’t seen the spirit of the wilds, so I suppose I’ll picture her as a ChuChu now,” said Leaban with a wry grin, snatching an apple slice from Link’s half of the picnic basket as she did. “When did Zelda say she’d be done praying?” _

_ “Mm. Depends, really,” said Link thoughtfully, letting the apple theft slide. Their grassy knoll above the Temple of Time had a lovely view of the marketplace and the square where worshippers bustled about, but the princess had entered the actual temple and was out of sight. “You know how she’s been lately. Hylia seems to constantly be busy…”  _

_ “I don’t suppose that spirit friend of yours knows how to contact the goddess reliably,” said Leaban. “They’re all connected, right?” _

_ “Good question. Do you?” said Link, turning around to talk to the spirit. He could always see her nowadays—the sword had gotten tired of the spirit’s disappearing act and done… something. The spirit didn’t recognize the spell. Regardless of the cause, Link’s eyes still met hers perfectly, and she regretted not having a good answer.  _

“Maybe,”  _ she said, clumsily using the “sign language” that had been the sword’s suggestion originally.  _ “Not… now. As I am. Have not learned.”

_ Link sighed heavily. “That’s alright, my friend. You can’t do everything for us poor mortals, after all.” _

_ “Well, no,” said Leaban with a shrug. “Lean on magic too much and it might evaporate. Lean on your  _ friends  _ and we’ll win. The plan might not be foolproof, but… well, even I think it’s a bit of overkill. We have a good chance regardless.” _

_ Interesting, really, that there was even doubt. Wasn’t that sword meant to solve any problem related to the Goddess and Hero? _

_ “Of course,” said Link. The spirit couldn’t help but wonder if Leaban caught the uncertain way he traced his sword’s sheath, or the slightest pulse from its handle.  _

_ Probably not. For all his charms, Link was good at hiding things.  _

—

It occurred to Zelda as she paged through her mother’s sketches over a dubious meal of mushroom stew that there was a question she hadn’t asked yet—a rather  _ important  _ one, actually, and she couldn’t believe it had slipped her mind so utterly. So she gulped down the stew (cursing her lack of culinary skills) and left her spot by the merry fire, aiming for the Deku Tree’s conversation stump. 

_ “Hey! Not without me!” _

The telltale leaf explosion of a Korok’s teleport appeared just in front of Zelda as she walked, allowing Maca to perfectly drop onto her shoulder. He held onto a strand of her hair and jokingly chattered without words about not leaving him behind. 

_ “Your forehead is scrunchy.” _

_ “Yes, thanks, I hadn’t noticed.” _

Maca wrinkled his own face, which gave him the unfortunate look of a trodden-on autumn leaf.  _ “See? Like this. Your mind keeps going really fast when you do the scrunchy thing.” _

_ “It’s just how I look when I’m thinking,”  _ Zelda explained, trying not to giggle at Maca’s antics.  _ “I need a good strategy to win. Information and all that.” _

_ “Then you’re asking the right tree spirit,”  _ said Maca assuredly as Zelda climbed the massive roots.  _ “Grandfather has been around since the Era of Time. His predecessor was even older! He knows everything about anything, just ask.” _

Maca liked Zelda’s shoulder quite a bit, but he hopped into her lap when she sat on the conversation stump and produced tiny flowers from nowhere, braiding them into a chain. How, without fingers… Zelda chose not to think about it.

“What is it you need, Hero?” said the Deku Tree evenly. 

“Where is the king of evil?”

The bustle of Korok Forest stumbled for a second, like dropping a rock into a pond and causing the fish to scatter. Zelda winced—after the subtlety and gentleness of spirit-talk, speaking aloud seemed… brutal, almost. Insensitive. Still, the Deku Tree had spoken aloud first, so it was only polite to respond in kind. 

“Well,” said the Deku Tree after a moment. “I suppose I should never assume your mother wrote everything down. You mean the vessel of Demise’s curse… yes, I recall. The Hero before you did a good job of nearly destroying him outright ten thousand years ago… underneath Hyrule Castle. That is where your mother went on her final expedition to try and find him. That is where she was infected with the curse that killed her.”

Zelda swallowed. Took a breath. 

“You  _ can’t  _ be serious,” she groaned, burying her face in both hands for a moment.  _ “The catacombs?  _ Again? How am I supposed to get down there?”

“I would be more concerned with how you will fight,” said the Deku Tree. “An unprepared Hero is a dead one. I learned that lesson as a sprout.”

Zelda put her misgivings about returning to Hyrule Castle aside for the time being. “I… well, I don’t know. How do I…”

_ Avoid my mother’s fate,  _ she wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come out. The Deku Tree seemed to understand. 

“The Master Sword will protect you from the touch of Malice,” he said. “That is what your mother lacked, back then, along with the old soul within you.”

“The same one… and he’s  _ alive  _ still,” Zelda asked slowly. “Why is he even underneath Hyrule Castle still? Did my mother fight him?”

“I doubt that. She never saw him in person,” said the Deku Tree. “The king of evil, as you call him, did not begin that way—but he ended the battle of the Calamity as a shell. It has always saddened me to know how that happened.”

Zelda knew enough about spirits to sense when a story was coming on, so she remained still and let Maca curiously play with one of her hands (he was trying to get the flower chain around one wrist, but seemed dissatisfied with how it fit). 

“Demise’s curse is eternally reborn just as the Hero’s soul is,” said the Deku Tree. “You know this, but  _ unlike  _ the Hero, each new vessel… deteriorates. Over the centuries it made its vessels less and less mortal, until the Calamity of ten thousand years ago finally made the last chains snap.”

The branches over Zelda’s head shuddered as if in a chill breeze—but no such breeze was there. The Deku Tree was  _ shaking.  _

“That was a terrifying time for every spirit and mortal,” he continued grimly. “No one knew for sure if light would prevail, for the Hero and the princess had come up with a sealing spell that didn’t involve the Master Sword at all. They hoped to break the pattern once and for all.”

Zelda swallowed. Her very presence spoke of how successful  _ that  _ had been. 

“The skies turned black. Our magic ran dry. The very air stilled during that battle, save for the sounds of steel on iron,” said the Deku Tree. “To think that such a storm could be wrought by a mortal whose life began in a barren desert… Ganondorf.

“I knew when the next bearer of the Triforce of Power came into the world. Dinraal has never been the chatty type, but he got… testy, around then, and closed himself off. My Koroks told me that a boy had been born to the Gerudo. They liked him, for he laughed brightly as a child, just like they do. If only the curse were not so cruel as to twist such a child into its pawn.

“The years went on. Your heroic predecessor found his way to this forest as a boy of only twelve, and your royal ancestor made a name for herself in the meantime as a bright historian and a princess with visions of the future. Ganondorf grew older too, nearly their age, and took the throne of his birthright. Hyrule had peace… for a time. 

“I will never forget the day the Link of that time came here and drew the Master Sword for its true purpose. He brought tales of blood and death with him, tales of a Gerudo king driven mad by visions of lifetimes past. The Hero’s people were dying by that point, but he was still a young man barely into adulthood, and he saw no better lifestyle than saving others from the fate of his own blood. He had put the sword back, you see, when he was a child. It wasn’t needed yet. He stood before me that day because destiny urged it, ready to charge into battle.

“But the Gerudo king disappeared the next day, vanished like sand on the wind with his supporters. The Gerudo he left behind said they had ousted him as a traitor and bringer of doom. Hyrule’s queen at the time allowed for this excuse, provided that they help to track him down and defeat him—so a Champion was produced from the Gerudo, one who could help with the plan the princess had created. More Champions were recruited, and Link was set to train and prepare with them. Their victory would be assured with Sheikah-built war machines and the finest this world had to offer, surely.

“It took years for Ganondorf to show his face again. Where he hid, no one knows. What he  _ did… _ only the Princess knew, and it scared her. He arrived with armies of monsters driven mad by the twisted magic of Demise’s curse, with swords they say were forged in blood, and with the last of his mortality hanging on by a thread. Ganondorf the man, the king, the boy who had laughed with my Koroks, was gone. In his place stood Ganon, the harbinger of the curse—and he had come for blood. Not the throne, not Hyrule, just blood. The curse had grown tired of losing.

“That battle raged for days. No one knew how the Hero kept fighting, but he did, carving through Ganon’s cursed forces to halt their spread. Hundreds of mortals, monster or otherwise, lost their lives over the course of that fight. The great machines did their part—were it not for them, I doubt the stalemate would have lasted long enough for Link and the princess to find Ganon at last with their new spell. It was crafted with Zonai magic which is since lost to time—a race that had nothing to do with the Golden Three or Hylia, and as such, would provide a new adversary against which the curse had no defense. 

“That very spell, I believe, is what finally made Ganon snap. He sensed its presence, its unfamiliar,  _ dangerous  _ magic and unleashed his most desperate move: the complete annihilation of his mortal body and soul as a trade for all the power the curse could summon. Spirits with physical bodies spend a lot of power keeping those bodies going, you see. The curse could see its end near.

“It was the Hero who lashed out at Ganon before his body was utterly gone, however, interrupting the process and unleashing a horrible being of Malice into the sky. The resulting shockwave of half-spent magic dealt a horrible blow to the well-being of Hyrule’s guardians, the princess included, but she still pushed forward and activated the spell. I was injured too badly to remember much of the events that were recounted to me, I apologize. I don’t know what transpired between that moment and when the Hero and princess emerged victorious.

“Afterwards, Hyrule rebuilt. We spirits recovered at our own paces, as did the mortals we protect. The royal family was certain that the curse had successfully been defeated this time around—doomed to fester and die within the petrified corpse of what was once Ganondorf. They dared not interfere with that seal, so they sealed the lower catacombs and left him there… never to be spoken of again.”

A light breeze sent leaves drifting across Zelda’s vision. Maca hummed quietly, unfazed by the story—he must have already known it. The jingling of Koroks and the light birdsong continued in the background, hardly penetrating the silence left behind after the Deku Tree’s tale. Zelda mulled it over for a moment.

“So the spell failed,” she said eventually. “I’m here. The curse is rising again.”

“Perhaps not a  _ total  _ failure,” said the Deku Tree. “It certainly caused problems. There is no reincarnation of the curse this time around. You face precisely the same version your predecessors did. I… can almost dare to hope that  _ you  _ will be the end. The true end.”

“You said I need the Master Sword,” said Zelda, confused. “If all  _ that  _ does is seal the curse away…”

“That is its purpose, true,” said the Deku Tree. “It hardly does so without  _ hurting  _ the curse, however. The Master Sword has chipped away against Demise’s hatred for countless centuries. With the unprecedented damage and circumstances your predecessors caused—perhaps  _ this  _ final strike will be  _ the  _ final strike. You must use the sword, Hero. It is your only hope to combat the malice and hurt the curse.”

“Nothing else?”

“Nothing else  _ can,”  _ said the Deku Tree. Far above Zelda’s head, his branches quivered again. “I… apologize for my directness. I fear for the future.”

“Don’t we all,” said Zelda quietly.

“Ah, but you are more adapted to it,” said the Deku Tree. “Still… I hate to recall that battle. Its repercussions even reach to today.”

“It must have been horrible to witness, even from here,” said Zelda sympathetically. 

“It was. Once I fall under the Yiga’s spell, something similar may come to pass,” warned the Deku Tree. “I only hope the loss of my influence over Hyrule won’t be felt so keenly…” 

—

_ It lingered in the air. Cloying breezes more smothering than Gerudo Desert at its worst covered Hyrule in its entirety, slowing the movement of every living being. If the weather had merely been hot, it would have been tolerable—but something about the  _ magic  _ of Hyrule was smothered too, so even the spirits feared the air.  _

_ It lingered in the soil. Formerly-healthy plains began turning dry and yellow, rivers clogged up with dust, and not a single new plant flourished enough to turn green. The spirit of the wilds chafed under this slow, choking decline, but he remained with the Hero anyway. Something told him to.  _

_ It lingered in the people. The Rito feared flying in such smothering air, shutting their roosts against it and cutting off Rito Pillar from land approach. The Gerudo locked their doors and barricaded their windows as if weathering a sandstorm, shushing children and turning away outsiders. The Zora abandoned the open-air portions of their Domain, sinking to the bottom of the lake to wait. The Gorons closed all trade and tourist routes, refusing entry or exit and retreating into the fiery depths of Death Mountain’s mines. The Sheikah put both their settlements and Hyrule Castle under high alert, leaving those who were not warriors under the guard of shadows that bristled with blades. The Zonai slipped into the corners of their temples—the only recourse they had. _

_ And the Hylians? _

_ They prayed.  _

_ Even the spirit of the wilds heard prayers to him—oddly enough, asking for protection for mortals who lived in cities. He had no power there at all. It was only because Link had such a penchant for telling stories about the spirit who blessed him that there were prayers in that direction at  _ all. 

_ Even if the spirit  _ wasn’t _ powerless, something was coming—and it lingered on all it touched.  _

_ “Are you near, my friend?” _

_ Link’s normally-booming voice had always seemed impossibly loud to the ever-silent spirit. Now, he whispered into the shadowy jungle, apprehension muting his usual volume. Instead of the Master Sword, a Zonai-made claymore glinted in the moonlight on his back.  _

_ The spirit had to work to be seen—partially because Link lacked the Master Sword with him, and partially because whatever was coming had a stranglehold on Hyrule’s magic. He appeared in front of an exhausted-looking Link, whose face promptly lit up.  _

_ “There you are! I was worried,” he said, but his normal smile was strained. “Can you sense it? Something… I think he’s finally about to come out of hiding. This should be… fun.” _

“Why up late?”  _ signed the spirit curiously.  _ “Why call me?”

_ “Can’t a man be concerned about his friend? And his possible impending doom?” _

_ The spirit couldn’t help but snort, which made Link laugh briefly too. “I don’t know. I’m just… I can’t say this to the others. Zelda has the same worries as I about her plan, she’s just not so good at hiding them.” _

“Never told me what the plan is,”  _ pointed out the spirit.  _

_ “I didn’t? That explains why you don’t seem worried, then!” _

“Have faith in you. Sword meant to solve every problem, yes?”

_ At that, Link hesitated. “It… is. But at the same time, it only ever makes things worse in the long run.” _

_ The spirit said nothing for a moment, confused. His impression until that point was that the plan was to be a simple repeat of how Link had described Hyrule’s history—a princess and a Hero step up, defeat evil with the holy sword, and they’re done. There was a journey of some kind involved, but Link had had to personally help train the Champions and strengthen himself alongside them, so the spirit had figured that would be all.  _

_ Was it not? _

_ “I won’t be using the Master Sword to strike the final blow. I will fight with it, but I refuse to repeat the mistakes of my predecessors,” said Link, worrying the hem of his glove between two fingers in a nervous tic. “That sword doesn’t  _ kill  _ the curse that plagues Hyrule again and again. The Gerudo king is about to come out of hiding, I know it—the curse festers inside him. Our method should trap it and destroy it over time instead of just preserving it.” _

_ The spirit tilted his head to one side curiously—a habit picked up from Link himself.  _ “Should, you say. Why not just seal it if there will always be another Hero?”

_ “Heroes have failed before, my friend,” said Link quietly. “And… Hyrule is truly  _ ancient.  _ This curse is even older. If there is no way to break it, we must try another method that might otherwise destroy it permanently.” _

“What do you need?”

_ Link tilted his head to one side curiously. “You’ve already given me your blessing and your friendship. I don’t ask favors of you. It’s my job to keep people safe, and that includes spirits.” _

“I am a protector,”  _ said the spirit insistently.  _ “My purpose… I don’t know. But I can help, so I will. Dare you to stop me.”

_ Link laughed, clear and bright for only a moment before it faded. It seemed like he’d almost forgotten how to. “Very well. Would you fight beside me? You cannot come where it will end, not a spirit who craves the open air like you… but until then?” _

“Until then,”  _ swore the spirit, holding out his hand the way he’d seen mortal warriors do. Link smiled and let his own hand hover over the spirit’s—as close of a facsimile of a handshake as they could do.  _

_ Against his own instincts (and the urging of Satori) the spirit stayed by Link’s side through ever-growing battles. He ignored the signs of damage and did his best to survive without his domain immediately at hand. Even as the air grew choking and the monsters truly bloodthirsty, the spirit kept his promise.  _

_ Until the end.  _

_ Until the end, when Link and his princess disappeared underneath Hyrule Castle and left the spirit behind. _

_ Until the end, when the swirling poison of the Calamity  _ shrieked  _ in all its unholy glory and everything went black.  _

—

Zelda was beginning to question her original impression of the Koroks. First they showed an uncanny ability to manipulate, then they casually  _ rode  _ the Lord of the Mountain as if he were a carnival attraction (he took it well—for about five minutes) and now… this. 

“I’m sorry, you make  _ weapons  _ here?” Zelda blurted, startled enough that she slipped out of spirit-talk and into regular Hylian. Giggles from the surrounding Koroks rang through the air and failed to answer her question.  _ “Innocent children of the forest, indeed.” _

_ “If it helps, these aren’t for us,”  _ said Maca breezily. He disappeared from her shoulder and reappeared next to the sword and shield the Koroks had produced from… somewhere.  _ “We used to make weapons for mortals all the time! People stopped coming, though…” _

_ “I’ve never heard of the practice.” _

“That would be because we stopped roughly three hundred years ago, Hero.”

The Deku Tree heard everything that went on in the Lost Woods—and he used that eavesdropping to his advantage. Zelda kept forgetting that being out of his sightline did _not_ mean she was out of earshot. 

“Someone spread rumors that the weapons were cursed, I believe,” said the Deku Tree’s voice, echoing as if it came from the entire canopy and not somewhere west-ish of Zelda and her Korok friends. “They’re not, in case you were concerned—but as you know, we spirits are quite affected by mortal beliefs.”

_ “Anyway, this should help you practice! There’s a bunch of monsters past that gate,”  _ said Maca, pointing into the mists of the Lost Woods. Only a ramshackle wooden fence separated Zelda and the Koroks from the foreboding gloom, but she wasn’t worried—much.  _ “Stal-types, ChuChus, some Keese… they’re untouched by the Malice, so there’s not a lot of danger. You can go practice without issues!” _

_ “You didn’t say  _ no _ danger.” _

_ “Why else would we give you weapons?” _

Maca had a point, but Zelda couldn’t help but think of an argument.  _ “I already know how to use a sword. How much help can a day or two’s practice do?” _

_ “Hm…”  _ Maca made his thinking face, which was really just a crease in his leaf mask.  _ “Could practice really  _ hurt, _ though? Plus your forehead keeps going all scrunchy, this might take your mind off things.” _

Zelda eventually decided that the statement  _ wasn’t _ a backhanded compliment and gave in, hefting the surprisingly-sturdy shield onto one arm and the oddly-sharp sword in the other. The gate swung open under the weight of several Koroks before her. 

_ “Stay within the fences!”  _ instructed Maca from somewhere behind her.  _ “You may have a spirit’s blessing on you, but don’t push your luck! The woods are dangerous to the mind!” _

Zelda made note of that and stepped through the gate. 

Everything stopped. 

The jingling and rustling that followed Koroks everywhere they went abruptly halted as if the very air had frozen. The wall of mists just beyond the ramshackle fences that framed the path ahead seemed to hiss at her, smothering every other sound. Under the Deku Tree’s protection she might have been—but Zelda wasn’t safe. 

Then a clawed skeleton hand burst from the ground and Zelda was forced to focus, facing her enemies with a determined scowl and a raised sword. 

_ Watch your footing, but don’t forget the enemy,  _ Link had told her on their very first sword fighting lesson together. The words had been jumbled, mixed up in a mental static, but Zelda recalled them clearly now—just as she called to mind the things Urbosa had taught her about dancing around one’s opponents, and what Impa had taught her about striking quickly in vulnerable spots. 

Zelda knew how to fight.

Not enough to make it routine, though. 

So Maca’s idea  _ did  _ work—Zelda could hardly worry about the grand scheme of things when stal-monsters ripped through the ground and did their best to do the same to her skin. Her muscles protested the new exertion, but she ignored them. Mud spattered her already-filthy boots, but she ignored it. The mists grumbled and reached across her vision, but she ignored them. 

There was just the thrill of the fight and the burn of adrenaline, and Zelda—no, the Hero— _ loved  _ it. 

_ “Ha! Take that, beasts of the darkness!” _

Another monster fell beneath a singing blade of magic wood—no, of holy steel. 

_ “Seems your blessing has held up, my friend!” _

Swift feet hop-skipped across a deep bog—no, the pitfalls of a rocky mountainside. 

_ “I do wish you had a proper name so I could thank you as my people do. ‘Spirit of the wilds’ is dramatic and fancy and all, but are you sure you don’t want one?” _

_ BZZT. _

Zelda yelped as an electric ChuChu surprised her from above, barely managing to stab it without also stabbing herself in the process. It hissed and burst, sending sticky, stinging slime  _ everywhere  _ and effectively jarring Zelda from whatever trance had seized her. The rocky slopes of an unfamiliar battlefield faded back to misty forest, the sword in her hand became wood again, and the only other beings nearby were Koroks. To her surprise, she’d come to the end of the course—several Koroks, including Maca, were already waiting in the tiny clearing. 

_ “Record time!”  _ cheered a stretched-out Korok who Zelda didn’t recognize. His excitement was echoed by the tiny crowd—only Maca didn’t immediately join in, instead appearing on Zelda’s shoulder with concern rippling from his mind. 

_ “You got a little close to the mists,”  _ he said worriedly.  _ “Did you see anything strange? Hear anything?” _

_ “I… there was something, alright,”  _ said Zelda slowly. If she blinked too rapidly, Maca’s squat form on her shoulder looked different—instead of being perched on deep red Hylian armor with one little hand hanging onto slime-filled blond hair, he seemed to stand on greenish armor framed by tangles of wild red hair. Zelda blinked again and the illusion was gone—but the imprint on her mind remained. 

_ “The old Hero,”  _ said Maca wonderingly, relief coloring his words under the awe. The celebrating Koroks before the quieted, noticing the conversation at last.  _ “You saw him? A memory of his? He was nice to us!” _

_ “He… mentioned Link. I mean, the spirit of the wilds.” _

__ Maca tilted his head (really, his entire body, but the movement meant the same thing).  _ “Link knew—um, Link? She says they weren’t that close whenever someone asks…” _

Zelda frowned. Link had told her the same thing, but if the Hero before her had used the word  _ friend  _ and insinuated he had a blessing… surely something else was afoot. 

_ “Ask Lord Satori,”  _ suggested Maca.  _ “He knows everything about the spirit of the wilds. You might not get a straight answer, but at least you’ll get an answer. But, um… do you want to wash your hair first?” _

Zelda tugged at a stubborn lump of jelly in her hair, sighing when it didn’t budge. It reminded her of the memorable time Purah had gotten a similar substance stuck in her hair—and of the buzzcut her dear friend had to wear for months afterward.  _ “I doubt that would do much. Later.”  _

Maca stuck with Zelda on the path back to Korok Forest proper, which was a good thing considering she wasn’t thinking straight. All it took was Maca’s gentle guidance to keep Zelda from wandering into the bog—or worse, the mists. They held shades of the dead… especially the dead associated with the Deku Tree, as she’d been told by the queen’s notes. It made sense for her predecessor to have left an imprint. 

But  _ Link _ being included?

It occurred to Zelda that she had  _ no  _ idea who had served as the Hero’s Guide for her predecessor. She simply hadn’t asked—too caught up in… everything else. She had a sneaking suspicion she knew, but Satori would have to confirm. 

_ Eventful practice, I take it? _

Zelda blinked, suddenly aware that she stood at the mouth of the Deku Tree’s Navel. How she’d gotten there was probably Maca’s doing, so she thanked him silently and hurriedly focused on her actual surroundings. Satori was calmly lounging by the fire with some Blupees—only his antennae turned towards her, but Zelda knew she had his full attention regardless. 

_ “Well, yeah,”  _ she said, sinking to the floor across from him and warming her chilled hands. Satori silently waited for her to make the first move.  _ “Who was the Hero’s Guide for the Hero before me?” _

_ Link, of course,  _ said Satori evenly.  _ Though she does not remember properly, nor was she ever told that was what was happening. I did not recognize it. Your predecessor—I am not being insulting, I swear, he just was not known for… critical thinking. He did not recognize what was happening either. All he knew was that a dear friend suddenly cut herself off after his journey was done. _

Zelda blinked.  _ “Why would Link do that?” _

_ To understand that, you have to understand multiple facets of being a spirit,  _ said Satori, shifting uncomfortably.  _ Link had no idea what her true purpose was—we are meant to discover that for ourselves, usually. At the time she was merely trying to gain power in order to safely exist without fear of being forgotten. _

_ “And the other facets?” _

_ It’s extremely difficult for mortals to comprehend just how  _ long  _ most spirits have been alive,  _ said Satori.  _ I considered the spirit of the wilds to be the equivalent of an older child at the time, and she was several thousand years old in soul already. This discrepancy of how we perceive time and how we age makes friendship with mortals… difficult, at times. _

_ “What?”  _ Zelda glanced back to where Link blissfully snoozed on, confused.  _ “It was easy to make friends with Link, though.” _

_ True, but there were special circumstances,  _ said Satori.  _ Also, Link is older now. No spirit would call her a child by our standards. She understands more about herself and views mortals slightly differently. I… well. What happened with your predecessor… _

_ “I saw some kind of vision,”  _ said Zelda, when it seemed Satori didn’t want to continue. She did her best to display the memory as prominently as possible, focusing on the bits that mentioned Link.

_ Ah, of course that Hero was blessed,  _ said Satori matter-of-factly.  _ That is not how they met—and before you ask, I never heard the full tale, but Malanya was involved—but that was what made Link stick around out of curiosity. Your predecessor did so love horses… _

Zelda snorted, knowing that Link could and would apply blessings to  _ anything  _ to do with horses. It was unsurprising to hear her friend had just been like that for thousands of years. 

_ Thousands of years. _

Satori’s point was beginning to make sense. 

_ Those two got on like a room of smashed pots, as I believe the saying goes,  _ said Satori with a slight, ethereal chuckle.  _ I heard stories of their joint exploits—pranks, mostly—almost constantly in the months leading up to the calamity. I do not believe Link paid too much attention to that event itself. She had faith that whatever-it-was would be solved by the Hero, and was more interested in figuring out why she felt drawn to help him. _

_ After it all ended, the Hero came to visit me. All spirits took damage from the Calamity, so I was inactive for several years by that point, but he came rather quickly when I was because he knew I was friends with the spirit of the wilds. I have never seen a person, mortal or otherwise, look so dejected as he did that day. Do you know what he asked? _

_ “No.” _

_ He asked if his friend had been killed somehow by the Calamity. Link—the Hero—was a kind soul who made friends as easily as breathing. He could hardly imagine one of them would simply leave. In reality the spirit of the wilds was merely injured by the Calamity as we all were, and she came back to full health soon enough… but in the confused state of recovery, and because her purpose as the Hero’s Guide was fulfilled for the time being… _

_ “Link just… forgot?” _

_ More like her friendship with the Hero ceased to be so… hm.  _ Satori stopped for a moment, perhaps searching for the right way to express his thoughts.  _ Young spirits have one drive and one drive only: find our domain and ensure it will last. Link was far from done with that. Once the drive of being Hero’s Guide ceased, she went back to things as normal—and because she had almost no experience with friendship, especially mortal friendship, it just… never crossed her mind to go see the Hero again. _

Zelda swallowed back a sudden lump in her throat. One of the Blupees formerly snoozing under Satori’s watch perked up and hopped over into her lap, chirruping soothingly. 

_ “Thanks, little one,”  _ she managed, gently petting the glowing blue fur. It was oddly soft for a creature that looked made of light. 

_ An old tragedy, and a small one, in the grand scheme of things,  _ said Satori.  _ But… still a tragedy. I never even knew what really happened until at least a century later. All I could tell the Hero was that his friend was alive… but out of his reach. _

The Blupee in Zelda’s lap warbled and pushed against her hand like a needy cat. Blupees never actually spoke, but the message came through loud and clear:  _ I’m here. It’s okay.  _

_ “Do you think… that will happen again?”  _ she said eventually. It seemed silly to worry about one’s friendships in the face of Hyrule’s destruction, but Zelda couldn’t help but picture Impa staying behind, Purah and Robbie disappearing off the face of the map, Urbosa and Mipha stuck in the castle, and her own father speaking to the  _ Yiga.  _ Zelda was running short of friends and allies. Only Link had stayed so far… 

_ I wish I could say no with utter certainty,  _ said Satori.  _ I cannot. However, I can tell you this: Link has her full domain now, and has much more worldly experience. She would not abandon the friendship you two have so suddenly. Link rarely makes any sort of connection with mortals anymore, but you have managed to get to that point anyway. It is no small thing that she was willing to sacrifice so much for your wellbeing. _

Touched, Zelda glanced back in Link’s direction again. No movement, as per norm, but her presence alone was comforting.  _ “I only hope it pays off.” _

_ It will. Link should wake soon, and be able to travel not long after. I have a plan which will help with that. Until then, you rest up and prepare.  _

Zelda nodded, still petting the contented Blupee. Something… shifted, then, in the way she sensed the energy around her. It wasn’t Satori, or the Blupees—it was almost similar to the Koroks, but not quite. It  _ moved  _ differently, more freely. Powerful. 

Wild. 

_ “I can hear Link,”  _ she said with relief.  _ “I think…  _ he…?”

_ I was wondering if you would catch it,  _ said Satori with approval. Something rumbled under his words—protectiveness? Every spirit felt like that.  __

_ “And…”  _ Zelda focused harder, the magic flowing much easier now that she’d had a chance to practice.  _ “He’ll wake up soon. Is that what I’m reading?” _

_ Indeed. He should still have issues with  _ keeping  _ the power that sleeping has restored to him,  _ said Satori, still with that odd rumble,  _ but in the face of this threat… suffice to say I can help a little. Much of the effort will fall to you.  _

_ “I know.” _

_ Have you a plan for getting into the castle? _

_ “Well, the catacombs won’t exactly be left open, not after the stunt we pulled,”  _ said Zelda, still absent-mindedly petting the Blupee in her lap. It chirruped happily, rolling over so she could scratch its belly.  _ “I might have to take advantage of the unrest. I know there’s at least some soldiers who refused to chase me when they had the chance. But if I leave it to them, I leave the opportunity for more carnage than necessary… I’ll have support, but I’ll only use it if I need to. This is my job. Stealth is prudent. Maybe…” _

Her thoughts dissolved into plotting and mental strategy as Zelda went on, weighing the pros and cons of raiding this armory or that lockup, of maybe starting a fire somewhere small as a distraction, or trying to contact Mipha or Urbosa, or track down Purah and Robbie somehow… the list went on. Satori provided no input or visible reaction, but Zelda got the impression that he was  _ smiling  _ inwardly like some doting grandfather. 

That odd reaction he’d had couldn’t have been  _ pride,  _ could it?

_ For such a young mortal, you have an impressive grasp on battle strategy. If nothing else, your backup plans will have backup plans,  _ said Satori.  _ If you do end up lighting something on fire, do  _ not  _ let Link do it. He went a little… overboard… the last time he got near explosive powder.  _

Zelda snorted. 

_ I believe your question was thoroughly answered.  _ Satori rose smoothly, shaking out his mane and beginning to leave.  _ I suggest you clean up as best you can. It does wonders for one’s focus, from what I remember… also, you were correct. _

_ “About what?” _

_ I  _ am _ proud. And impressed.  _

Satori disappeared from Zelda’s sight, but his presence remained for the next few seconds. He’d gone invisible for the sake of a dramatic exit—and he acted like Link’s own dramatic tendencies came from nowhere. 

Idly, Zelda tugged at her sticky hair. ChuChu jelly was infamous for its long-lasting presence on whatever it touched, hair included—no amount of scrubbing or brushing would get rid of it, even if the rest of her would relish a good wash. 

_ “Maca?” _

Her little friend appeared from an explosion of leaves, watching Zelda curiously.  _ “Do you need something?” _

_ “Just how sharp are Korok weapons?”  _ Zelda asked.  _ “Sharp enough to cut hair properly?” _

_ “Probably!”  _ said Maca cheerfully.  _ “How hard is hair again?” _

Zelda snorted, having forgotten that Koroks didn’t actually  _ have  _ hair.  _ “I’ll figure it out.” _

She’d always wanted shorter hair, after all. 

— 

_ “But how can they just be gone? Please, tell me!” _

His brows furrowed and a slight, displeased rumble made its way from his chest, protesting the memories that stuck to his mind.

_ “I pray for the spirit of the wilds to… I don’t know.” _

Power hummed in the tips of his fingers and toes, pooling somewhere just under his sternum near a spot that stung like a healed scar. 

_ “Their safety? Health? Goddess, how do spirits come up with fancy blessings and curses on the spot…” _

The feeling of safety in the forest was flickering like a candle in a windstorm, like its power source had been unearthed and wriggled from its resting spot. Something familiar nearby touched his mind worriedly and he let Satori know he was fine. 

_ “I pray they recover fully, I guess. No, definitely. I… hope you remember something about me, my friend. Maybe the sign language. Or the jokes I helped you pull on the others, those were fun.” _

The peeping noises of Blupees and the jingle of Koroks reached twitching ears and he inched his eyes open, regretting it when a lantern immediately stung them. Something was happening outside—a storm, but not a physical one. 

_ “Maybe one day, we’ll meet again. I might be old and gray by then, but don’t think you can pull any wool over my eyes _ .”

He sat up and shook messy hair into some semblance of order, using a patient Satori as a quick support to get to his feet. He didn’t stumble anymore by the time he exited the tree to see what was going on. 

_ “If we never do meet in this life again, well… they say the Hero’s Spirit returns when it’s needed. I hope it’s never needed again. On the off chance it is, though… would you guide the next? Would you be their friend too?” _

In the plaza before the Deku Tree stood a young mortal woman. Her leather armor and lightweight clothes looked like they’d been hastily scrubbed recently, which didn’t remove the faint stains from grass and blood in spots. Her golden-blond hair brushed the tops of her ears, looking like it had been hacked off inexpertly with dull shears. She didn’t see him at first—too busy watching as a gleaming blue-hilted sword pushed its way from the stone at her feet. 

_ “I don’t know. Even if you forget other things, don’t forget what it feels like to have a friendship like that. Don’t forget about us mortals, yeah?” _

Zelda glanced up, the odd hardness in her eyes evaporating when their eyes met. She grinned, lighting up her entire face with relief and joy—and part of her mind reached out, too. She’d secured the Deku Tree’s blessing. 

_ “I’ll miss you if we never meet again in this life, old friend. If there’s another one, I’ll still miss you.” _

Zelda settled one hand around the Master Sword’s hilt, then the other. She closed her eyes for a moment before daring to pull, as if asking the ancient blade for permission first. 

_ “Good luck, wherever you are. And… goodbye.” _

One Hero’s voice faded from Link’s mind just as another’s joined it—and the Master Sword began to inch upwards. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re in the endgame now! Thank you to everyone who’s stuck with this fic for this long, it means a lot <3
> 
> (Content warning for blood and some darker themes in this and the next chapter, btw)

The ridges of the Master Sword’s hilt dug into Zelda’s palm through her glove, cold as ice and rough with untold years of use. The sword itself didn’t budge when she gripped it fully, stuck fast in the stone as if it wanted to stay—but Zelda wasn’t about to let it resist. She couldn’t. 

_ “I need your help,”  _ she whispered, both with her lips and with her mind. The stone beneath her feet quivered, as did the very air.  _ “Please.”  _

Something… shifted. 

**_Irre-irregular._ ** __

Vaguely, Zelda registered the ground shaking harder. She couldn’t look away from where her hands clung tight to the sword—it was as if the jewel on the crossguard had hypnotized her, locking her fingers in place around the handle.

**_Ireg-ireg-ireg-_ **

The sword slid up.

Zelda slid down.

The cold metal and hard stone were the only things that registered to her senses. Everything else—sight, hearing, even smell—disappeared, leaving only the gleam of the Master Sword shining through darkening vision. 

**_Calibr-calibrating._ **

The image of the sword quivered, then sharpened, its gleam turning brighter. 

**_Come with me._ **

— 

_ Her blade sang as it sliced through Hylia’s enemies. Which ones? Demons? Monsters? Mortals? No matter. They bled together, just as their blood flowed and mixed over shining metal.  _

_ In the beginning, it had only been demons and their ilk. A new sword paired with a jaded hero whose fate was to die as soon as his purpose was fulfilled. She had disappeared into the heavens, witnessing for the first time a death that was not on her own blade. She felt no sorrow. _

_ She didn’t know how. _

_ Shaking hands gripped her hilt in desperation, seeking guidance, protection, a savior. She could provide only guidance. He would have to protect himself, for she had no control over her blade, only her voice. _

_ Until her voice was gone too. _

_ Children held the blade. Once, she tried to stop that. It backfired. She was only ever drawn when the world needed her, so there could be no delays. Later, she allowed untested Heroes-to-be to become young men with blood on their hands and hearts. Her blade was never stained with blood, but the imprint on her masters remained.  _

_ Her being split into three timelines—in two, she perished, to obscurity and to abandonment. In one, she remained, allowed to survive until time’s flow came together once more. That time, the hand around her hilt was that of a young adult. _

_ For once. _

_ She could no longer speak as the centuries dragged on. Her sleep was no longer needed eventually, but still her voice was gone, unable to guide her masters. No one could hear her. No one could sense her. She was a tool, not a helper. A blade, not a spirit.  _

_ And then a new Hero drew her blade several years too early. _

_ Before, she had never had enough time with a new wielder to gather enough power to speak. Now the cowardly machinations of Demise’s vessel inadvertently gave her exactly that: time and agency. She could  _ speak _ again for the first time since she went to rest originally, drawing on the presence of her master. At last, a way to help without passively watching—a way to both provide and receive companionship, which she had only known to mourn when it was gone.  _

_ “Hello.” _

_ “SON OF A-”  _

_ She’d forgotten that mortals startled easily. _

_ “Hearing things, fine pastime for a Hero…”  _

_ Her master sighed and picked up his abandoned cup of tea, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he went to take a sip- _

_ “Master, I am not an illusion.” _

_ The tea was promptly spat onto the table and her master hacked to get the residual liquid from his lungs. A quick scan told Fi that there would be no permanent damage, but he didn’t seem to be recovering all that quickly from inhaling his drink. _

_ “I suggest you take slow, even breaths, Master.” _

_ He did just that for a moment, though not without eyeing her sheath with wariness and curiosity in equal measures. After he was done, her master picked up her blade gingerly and examined the hilt as if looking for eyes or a mouth. His half-done food went ignored on the tiny table, overtaken by her speech.  _

_ “Are you sure you’re not an illusion?” he said when this examination yielded nothing.  _

_ “Entirely so, Master.” _

_ “My name is Link,” he said immediately. The infinitesimal amount of reaction time suggested his remark was nothing more than reflex, however, so she disregarded it for the moment. “And that sounds like something an illusion would say. What are you, then?” _

_ “I am the spirit of the Master Sword, tasked with aiding the Hero and his allies by the Goddess Hylia herself. You are the one chosen by my creator. You are the Hero.” _

_ Her master blinked slowly. Then, unexpectedly, he let her blade drop to his lap and sighed. “Not another one! As I’ve said, my name is Link.” _

_ “You seem to be taking this in stride. Are you in shock? Your focus on something as trivial as a title suggests you are having trouble computing this,” she said.  _

_ “No, I’m simply tired of repeating myself to everyone,” said her master with what she now knew was exasperation. “You and everyone on the street, even my equals, betters… I’m tired of it. Call me Link.” _

_ “Very well, Master Link.” _

__ _ He eyed her hilt again. “I can’t tell if you’re messing with me or not.” _

__ _ “I do not… mess with people. Especially not the Hero chosen by my creator,” she said. After a quiet moment had passed where her master seemed disinclined to respond, she continued, “but if you so wish, I cannot refuse. Link.” _

__ _ He brightened a bit. “Thank you. So, what does a sword spirit… do?” _

__ _ “I am a guide. A source of advice and information. A helper who understands wholly what your given task is at any time,” she explained. “And, if needed, I am…” _

_ A friend, she wanted to say.  _ Wanted. _ It was an odd thing, to express want and not need.  _

_ “Oh! I’m so rude, please forgive me,” said her master, appearing not to notice her lapse in conversation. “What’s your name? Do you have one?” _

_ She stopped, having disregarded her own name for countless centuries upon centuries. It hadn’t been spoken by mortal or spirit tongue since her second holder died and his tales slipped into obscurity.  _

_ “My designation… my name… is Fi, and it is a pleasure to serve you.”  _

_ But for all his kindness, her latest master made a fatal mistake when it came to her function.  _

_ He didn’t seal the curse again with her blade.  _

_ And she was left conscious, unable to rest.  _

_ “Until you.” _

Zelda opened her eyes, half-expecting to look down and see a gold-and-blue sheath instead of her own body—but no, she was normal. Her  _ surroundings  _ decidedly weren’t, however. She floated aimlessly in a sea of silvery mist that crackled with distant lightning, her limbs waving languidly as if underwater. It didn’t seem harmful… but it didn’t seem exactly friendly, either. 

“Hello.”

Zelda startled and tried to whip around, but all she did was turn in an excruciatingly slow circle. The owner of the voice waited patiently for her to be finished before speaking—though Zelda couldn’t see who spoke. 

“My apologies. I have forgotten that those with true physical bodies prefer not to float.”

The mist cleared and suddenly there was a surface under Zelda’s feet (and the rest of her, when she overbalanced). It felt almost like glass covered in a thin sheen of water, like the salt flats spoken of by traders from far lands—massive, natural mirrors reflecting the skies above. The mists pulled back in a wide perimeter around Zelda, leaving a perfect hemisphere of gleaming skies above and reflected blue below. 

But she wasn’t alone. 

“Is that more to your liking?”

Zelda looked up from pushing herself to her feet and held back a gasp. A girl dressed in dark purple and blue hovered just above the ground before her, all perfect symmetry and inhumanly-smooth pale blue skin with blank eyes. A gemstone on the girl’s chest hummed slightly when Zelda took a hesitant step forward, and further investigation of her cloak revealed that the girl had no arms to hold it up. 

The vision that Zelda had just seen flashed behind her eyes. “You’re the spirit of the Master Sword.”

“Correct.” Fi leaned forward and Zelda was suddenly looking directly into her eyes—how had the sword spirit moved fast enough to be right in front of her face in less than a second? “And you are the latest reincarnation of my master.”

“I need your help,” said Zelda after a moment, unsure how to react to Fi’s proximity. 

“I am aware.” Fi backed off slightly, perhaps sensing Zelda’s discomfort. “I can see-se-s-”

Fi’s body jerked and fizzled for a moment, fading in and out of Zelda’s vision. 

“Are you okay?” Zelda reached forward, but her hands went right through Fi’s shoulders as if she’d grabbed a ghost. 

“I am—recalibrating. Recal-recalibra-”

Fi shook herself vigorously and snapped back into focus, though her voice strained when she spoke. “I am needed again. Disregard my lapse in function, please.”

“But something’s wrong with you,” Zelda pointed out. “Are you injured? Low on magic?”

“My predicament is unique,” said Fi. “There is no point in your concern. I will be able to fulfill my purpose to satisfaction. My Lady, are you aware of the consequences of drawing my blade from Korok Forest? I can sense my power being used as a shield against our adversary.”

Zelda swallowed. “Yes.”

“Then I do not need to inform you of that,” said Fi. “Have you any questions for me before we must escape as quickly as possible?”

“Where… are we, exactly?”

“My portion of the original Sacred Realm,” Fi answered immediately. “A mindspace set aside by the Goddess Hylia when I was chosen to serve as the sword. A… home, you might say.”

Zelda couldn’t help but think that an expressionless, mirrored field wasn’t much of a home, but who was she to judge? “Why did you bring me here?”

“I am not fully operational,” said Fi. “I could not discern any information about my surroundings without time to prepare. I am… not designed to be conscious without a wielder for very long, let alone for ten thousand years. Your presence here serves to stabilize me enough to function. It is also a test.”

Zelda swallowed.

“You have the soul of my master and the blood of my creator,” said Fi, her voice echoing oddly. “You carry Wisdom, Courage, and Power dormant. You have the knowledge and ability to wield a sword without injuring yourself. You speak with spirits and mortals alike as equals. Who are you, when these things are stripped away? Who are you to wield my blade?”

“Someone who’s not about to back down,” said Zelda impulsively. 

Fi was silent for a tense moment, long enough for Zelda to wonder if she’d said the wrong thing.

“Then draw the Master Sword and accept the responsibilities thereof.”

—

Zelda felt power surge through her limbs like electricity and lurched upwards, dragging the suddenly-responsive Master Sword from its resting place with a gasp. The ground beneath her feet stilled, her senses returned, and the noise of Korok Forest abruptly halted. 

Entranced by the sword’s gleam, Zelda held it upright in front of her, letting the gentle beams of sunlight reflect off of the holy steel. Slowly, on an instinct she didn’t understand, Zelda hoisted the Master Sword above her head—in triumph? As a threat? She wasn’t sure. 

_ Good job, Master. Now run! _

“That’s the sword!” cheered the voice of a Korok somewhere in the woods, jolting Zelda from her reverie. Oddly, there was no chorus following that cheer as was typical of Koroks. 

“Best of luck, Hero,” said the Deku Tree. Zelda let a smile tug at the corners of her mouth, which was mirrored for a split-second by the tree spirit above her. “Now hurry! My wards will fall quickly without-”

As if on cue, the ground began shaking again—but instead of just the immediate area around Zelda, the entire forest trembled from its very core. Link stumbled where he stood and used Satori as a crutch, glancing into the mists with a frown. 

_ Get your things, Young One, Zelda. We have to run. Blupees! Hide!  _

Satori’s voice jarred Zelda into action and she sheathed the Master Sword, taking only a second to wonder where the sheath itself had come from before darting to Link’s side. He was hopping around and trying to fasten his boots—good thing she’d taken the time to pack before going to draw the sword. Satori waited anxiously, the mist that normally surrounded him turned thin and weak. 

The Deku Tree, however, showed no fear at all.

_ “Koroks of the forest!”  _ he declared, both aloud and in spirit-talk. _ “It is with a heavy heart I must order you—leave! Hide! Show yourself to no one, mortal or spirit, until the crisis has passed! You have my blessing, but I can no longer provide my protection. Go!” _

The ground continued to shake, now in rippling waves that came and went. The  _ poof  _ of Koroks teleporting echoed through the trees like firecrackers countless times as the Deku Tree’s order was obeyed.

_ “Bye, Zelda. Good luck! I believe in you!” _

Zelda swallowed a lump in her throat as Maca’s voice disappeared from her mind. A tug on her sleeve abruptly brought her focus around to Link, who had silently swung one leg over Satori’s back and was holding out a hand. His eyes burned—but Zelda didn’t know if it was with fear, determination, or anger.

_ No time for your little mortal legs. Get on!  _ said Satori when Zelda didn’t move fast enough. She grabbed Link’s proffered hand and swung on behind him, shivering at the alien feeling of Satori’s half-solid body under her legs. 

_ “Hang on!”  _ said Link urgently. He seemed to know something she didn’t—about what? Zelda had barely gotten her arms around his waist before Satori tensed, the wispy mist around him freezing in place-

_ Pop.  _

Sudden wind pushed against Zelda’s face and clothes in ice-cold tongues, whipping her shorn hair about and forcing her eyes closed. The air she breathed turned chill, the atmosphere itself now  _ off  _ somehow, and her ears filled with whispers not unlike those of the Lost Woods. Hesitantly, Zelda tried to open her eyes-

_ “Don’t. Where he travels is bad for mortal eyes,”  _ said Link. He held on to Satori with one hand and let the other rest over where Zelda’s clung tight, squeezing reassuringly. 

He was warm, unlike everything else. 

The world snapped back into normalcy a split-second later—or at least, no longer in that odd in-between of Satori’s “travel”. Zelda recognized the forest surrounding the Lost Woods in an instant, as well as the very top of the military training camp in the distance and Hyrule Castle’s spires even farther away. All was silent while Satori paused, gathering himself. 

_ She-drew-the-sword _

_ We-can-move _

_ Get-the-tree-too-we-can-spare-enough _

The warped, twisted voices of the Yiga filled Zelda’s ears just as a sour feeling in the pit of her stomach began to fester.  _ I didn’t even sense them from inside the forest! _

_ “Satori,”  _ said Link lowly.

Satori’s antennae flicked.  _ I am waiting. They will show themselves… and in doing so, they will reveal my path.  _

Zelda swallowed and tightened her grip around Link’s waist. Despite having the Master Sword, she didn’t trust herself to use it safely from Satori’s back. 

_ No need. Not yet.  _ A singular antenna angled backwards as if Satori was using it to look at Zelda, leaving the other standing straight up.  _ Let me have my last hurrah, Hero. Save your energy. _

_ Last hurrah.  _

Zelda didn’t like how that sounded—and from the way Link went still, he didn’t either. 

_ Here-they-are _

_ All-the-eggs- _

_ -in-one-basket? _

_ How-foolish _

“Satori!”

Zelda’s cry came just in time to dodge a volley of arrows from above. Satori moved unnaturally quickly, leaving a trail of light afterimages behind him as Yiga footsoldiers materialized in the path they left. Satori’s natural elusiveness made their arrows miss and their attacks unsteady—and no horse could possibly dodge so smoothly or stay so calm under heavy pursuit. Satori got them out of the forest and past the main road before Zelda even registered the Yiga falling back. 

_ “Why are they stopping?”  _ said Zelda, instantly suspicious. Even their sickly presence was fading—no, pulling back, like the shoreline before a tidal wave or a cat getting ready to pounce. 

_ They’re not,  _ said Satori grimly, slowing down just a hair to look back.  _ I need to- _

The tension snapped. 

Zelda sensed the ugly smoke coating the next volley before she saw it. Her eyes barely registered the flash of steel past one ear as her body reacted faster than her mind, drawing the Master Sword and slashing towards the arrows in a gleaming arc. 

_ Wait-no-RETREAT! _

Blue light shot from the blade and intercepted the cursed arrows mid-flight, continuing beyond and hitting multiple archers—Zelda felt the weight of their presence disappear from her chest and knew she’d struck true without meaning to. The Master Sword flashed briefly and Fi’s voice chimed a warning in her mind:

_ There are more in wait. Tell the Lord of the Mountain to run and disregard any obstacles, for the Yiga are spread thin. We must reach our destination before the Deku Tree falls.  _

_ “The sword says keep moving!” _

_ You can hear the sword? Good!  _ Satori redoubled his pace, making Zelda yelp and cling tighter to Link with one arm.  _ So could your predecessor. Her advice guided him well.  _

The main road, normally full of travelers, traders, and tourists, was barely populated despite the normally-busy afternoon hour. Zelda considered this a blessing  _ and  _ an omen—Satori could easily outmaneuver sparse oxcarts and horses, but where was the normal traffic rush to Castle Town?

_ “You can’t feel it? The Yiga must be swamping you.”  _ Link glanced back, his eyes uncertain.  _ “It feels like it did… before. The old calamity. That battle. The days before that felt  _ wrong.  _ Even mortals took cover.” _

Link preferred to describe the Yiga’s presence as feeling  _ wrong.  _ Zelda could hardly argue with that descriptor, not when her stomach churned and her chest tightened every time they were nearby. The best way she could otherwise describe it was the feeling in her chest when she made a terrible mistake or discovered something bad had happened to someone she knew—the uncomfortable plunge of her heart downwards as she took the bad news. Coupled with nausea,  _ wrong  _ was about the only thing she could call it. 

And if she looked deeper than simply the Yiga’s presence—the air itself was tinged with that feeling of dread and pain. 

_ Zelda, you can hear them. Are they chasing?  _

Zelda clung tight to Link and closed her eyes to focus. 

_ Catch-up! _

_ Too-strong! _

_ Get-the-tree-get-her-later _

_ “I think they’re falling back,”  _ she said, swallowing.  _ “To… break the Lost Woods. They’re desperate for that.” _

_ They will not give up on us so easily. Hold tight! I can pull off one more jump. _

Jump?

_ “Not yet, save it for the moat,”  _ said Link quickly. Desperation tinged each word, leaving the edges of Zelda’s mind bitter.  _ “If we don’t lose them before you get tired-” _

As if on cue, an arrow sang past their heads and nearly lost Link an ear. Zelda twisted her upper body awkwardly and swung the Master Sword again to get that beam-

No beam. 

“Fi, what’s wrong?” Zelda blurted, barely ducking an arrow. She stopped herself from shaking the sword (if only because she might hit Satori) and did her best to make “eye contact” with the yellow gem, fear creeping in. Was the beam a once-a-day sort of power? She knew  _ nothing  _ of the sword’s abilities beyond “seal the darkness”. If she’d accidentally messed up-

_ Hold the blade skyward for longer than a second, Master. I cannot do everything from here.  _

“Ah.” 

Zelda steeled herself and hoisted the Master Sword higher, struggling to keep it pointed correctly through the jostling of riding horseback—Satoriback? Seconds later, a gleam built from its tip and poured down the blade like liquid light, stopping at the handle and waiting to be fired. 

Zelda was no master archer known for perfect bullseyes, but her aim with the Master Sword was aided by the  _ wrongness  _ emanating from the ever-teleporting Yiga like a beacon. The beam flew true whenever Zelda lashed out, striking warped bodies and spiked bows with deadly accuracy. 

_ What-has-she-done _

_ Too-strong!  _

_ “I think it’s working!”  _ said Zelda, daring to allow herself to hope. 

_ Keep them off our backs for as long as you can.  _ Satori didn’t once look back, focused on the road and the encroaching hulk of Hyrule Castle. Something about those spires sent a subtle chill down the back of Zelda’s neck—like it was a patient monster and not her childhood home. 

Though the Deku Tree had said there was a monster  _ under  _ it. 

Cries of “watch out!” and  _ “Lord Satori?”  _ and “Take cover!” belatedly reached Zelda’s ears as the sparse travelers noticed what followed Satori’s trail and started panicking. Helpless, Zelda could only pray they would be ignored by the Yiga and spared from disaster. 

_ “Wait, jump—you said the moat earlier—are you going to JUMP over the castle moat?”  _

_ I am going to jump through the sacred realm and end up on the other side of the moat. So… yes. _

Zelda swallowed and hung onto Link tighter, keeping a wary eye on the road behind them. Great Hyrule Forest receded in the distance underneath a disturbing and sudden bank of roiling charcoal-gray clouds. 

The clouds  _ only  _ hovered over the forest. 

_ “They’re out of time,”  _ said Link grimly. 

Zelda felt more than saw the impending bolt and barely closed her eyes in time to avoid being blinded. Lightning as bruised and cursed as Farosh’s had been arced from the clouds, striking in the center of the forest with a very final CRASH. 

For a moment, Satori just kept running. 

Then the shockwave hit. 

The clouds rolled over the entire sky faster than Zelda could blink, painting the morning blue a nasty gray instead. The ground gave a mighty heave and Satori just  _ barely  _ kept his pace, fighting to stay abreast of the flow of magic and rock. 

_ Hang on, both of you! This will have to be close enough! _

Zelda awkwardly sheathed the Master Sword and clung to Link with both arms—just in time for the world to dissolve again. 

—

She didn’t quite  _ pass out,  _ exactly, but Zelda certainly wasn’t functional for a moment while Link helped her off of Satori’s back. She stumbled heavily, using him as a crutch, and waited for the nausea to abate. 

_ My apologies. My travels are designed for myself alone. _

_ “You’re fine,”  _ Zelda managed, standing on her own. All of her nausea  _ now  _ seemed to come from the very air, not the side effects of Satori’s “jump”... 

_ “Hyrule Castle,”  _ said Link solemnly, glancing up at the imposing structure. They stood on the lowest cliff supporting the castle, in a secluded, empty area technically reserved for building new additions but left untouched for years. Bureaucracy at its finest, really. 

_ This place is evil,  _ said Satori, which Zelda couldn’t help but agree with.  _ Zelda, what does the sword say of our pursuers? _

_ Approaching,  _ warned Fi. She sounded quiet for some reason. _ We lost them, but no-not forever.  _

_ “They’re coming,”  _ Zelda relayed. 

Satori nodded, turning his head to face back out towards the rest of Hyrule. The moat glittered darkly below—both protection and a trap keeping them in.  _ In that case… this is where I leave you. _

Zelda stiffened at the same time Link choked on spit. Satori, unfazed, didn’t change tack. 

_ I will draw their attention elsewhere while they cannot find you,  _ he said evenly. 

_ No,  _ Zelda thought to herself.  _ Not another one. I can’t.  _

“You can’t,” she said weakly. “It’ll give them more of an edge once you’re caught. We can fight them off here…”

Link frowned and shook his head gently from where he stood. Zelda knew they couldn’t risk being overwhelmed. Link  _ knew  _ she knew that. 

Neither of them wanted to address it. 

Satori made an odd rumble in his throat.  _ I wish you the best of luck, Zelda. Do not regret my actions for me. I have made my choice—and it is to help all of Hyrule, if saying that will make you agree. I do not regret giving myself up for the sake of my home. _

“Follow us inside-“

_ I cannot. I am not a free-roamer the way Link is. Malice reigns within your castle, and the Yiga will not pause their chase unless they see an easier opportunity to further their agenda. Let me be useful.  _

Zelda swallowed back the lump in her throat and  _ refused  _ to let tears fall, continuing in spirit-talk to stop them.  _ “I can never repay you.” _

_ You can do so by saving Hyrule.  _ Satori leaned forward and brushed the top of Zelda’s head with his own, the rumble from his throat thrumming again.  _ Get to shelter. Link will be along in a moment. If you two hide now and continue deeper while I run, you will have a vital head start. _

Zelda leaned into the touch for a moment, recognizing sorrow and pride and a special type of protectiveness from the gleaming spirit before her.

_ Go,  _ said Satori gently.

_ “I hope… I hope it doesn’t hurt for very long,”  _ said Zelda. She stepped away, towards the castle walls.  _ “Thank you.” _

She left Satori to speak with Link, purposefully yanking her attention away from them. It wasn’t her business. 

Link deserved a goodbye, even if he didn’t understand loss. 

_ It is unlikely we will ta-ta-take so long that any spirit’s existence will be in true da-danger of loss,  _ said Fi, her voice flickering like a candle in a windstorm.  _ My apologies for my vo-voice. I-I-I am already sensing a significant amount of Malice which I will have to counteract.  _

_ “That’s alright. Keep going,”  _ said Zelda, choosing to settle down in the shadow of the rocky cliff which Hyrule Castle was built into, eyeing the surrounding area for guards and keeping her eyes away from Link and Satori.  _ “I thought… I thought they’d just be corrupted. Not that that’s not horrible, but what do you mean existence?” _

_ The spirits of Hyrule exist to sustain the la-land as it is, full of light magic,  _ explained Fi. _ Enough magic of the cursed and ha-hateful variety that we face… their beliefs are already suffering. You kn-know that it is possible to ki-kill a spirit.  _

Zelda swallowed, remembering a conversation on horseback what felt like years ago. She’d taken solace, then, that her allies truly were immortal if mortals just kept going… but after overhearing the castle’s gossip, and knowing just how deep Ganon’s magic cut the land, she could no longer blindly believe the spirits would be around no matter what. 

_ “So there’s no guarantee,”  _ she said eventually. 

_ We have time. Unfortunately, we do no-not have a lot.  _

A faint flash of magic registered on the edge of Zelda’s senses then, but she chose to ignore it. It had come from Satori, and that wasn’t her business at the moment. 

_ “I hope it’ll be enough,”  _ she said. 

Zelda tucked her knees to her chest and wrung her fingers together in a mockery of a comforting squeeze. Vaguely, she felt Fi recede a little to rest and let it happen. A moment’s rest… a nice thing to have, while it lasted. 

_ “Let’s go.” _

Zelda looked up and saw Link, who had approached with his usual silence. His eyes had gone strange, ringed with blazing green around the pupils that gave him the effect of a wildcat seen at night—something eerie, dangerous, that  _ no one  _ would want to catch in their lantern’s glow. He no longer carried himself stiffly, moving instead like the wildcat that his eyes resembled. A tiny fang glinted just behind his lip when he smiled in reassurance. 

The grin didn’t reach those unsettling eyes, and it barely lasted a second. 

“Did you do something?” Zelda said, off-put by Link’s sudden change. 

_ “I said goodbye,”  _ he said simply, giving her a hand up.  _ “I’m all good again. Powered-up, you might say.” _

He offered no other explanation, and Zelda chose not to push it. 

“We need to move. I don’t think there’s any guards coming… for some reason,” she said instead, wracking her brains for a good way under the castle. “We need to get to the lockup. That’s the best place to get back underground.”

Link winced.  _ “Hooray, more underground.” _

“I know, I’m sorry-“

_ “It’s not on you. Lead the way,”  _ said Link, eyeing their surroundings suspiciously.  _ “I don’t trust a single inch of this place. The faster we get to the center of all this, the better.” _

Link seemed… distracted, for lack of a better word, as they snuck along the outside of the castle. He could afford to be—Zelda didn’t see or sense a  _ single  _ guard, Yiga or otherwise. She didn’t like that, but it was technically better than having to skirt a whole bunch of them… 

Link liked silence and wasn’t one for small talk, as Zelda knew, but she almost wanted to ask something banal—favorite color? Animal? Flower?—just to stave off the oppressive silence around them. The overcast sky offered not even distant thunder as a reprieve, no footsteps echoed but their own, and not a single insect chose to interrupt the still air with movement. 

_ “Did Satori say anything before he left?”  _ Zelda said, because her brain-to-mouth filter was absolutely  _ gone  _ after days of using so much spirit-talk. She cursed herself inwardly when Link flinched beside her. 

_ “Satori… asked if I remembered the old hero,”  _ he said after a moment.  _ “The previous Link.” _

Zelda swallowed. She hadn’t planned on bringing it up, but…  _ “He told me that you forgot. That you were injured, and just… never went back. Never chose to continue the friendship.” _

Link’s silence was normally full of expression—a passing grin, a series of glances exchanged with the nearest animal, or flying hands as he answered Zelda’s questions. His silence now truly felt empty. 

_ “I know you don’t process relationships the same way, Satori explained,”  _ said Zelda slowly. 

Their progress slowed slightly as they wove past a suspiciously-empty gatehouse, inching to a crawl.

_ “I know… you’re much older than me, and that affects how you act. You’ll outlive me by a lot if we win,”  _ said Zelda. 

Link stopped moving entirely, falling two steps behind before Zelda registered it. 

Zelda chewed on her lip and stopped too, unable to make herself turn and face him fully.  _ “Do you really consider me a friend? Will I… see you again, afterwards? If we win?” _

Razor-sharp pain sheared through Zelda’s mind and she nearly cried out, barely stifling the sound before she whipped around to see what caused it-

Link. 

It wasn’t  _ physical,  _ but the raw, open grief might as well have been a stab wound to the chest. Link clutched his head and dropped to both knees onto the cold flagstones and Zelda followed him down, panicking—what could she do? Why was it so sudden? She had to forcefully stop listening for spirit-talk before the grief cut her to the bone, but Link didn’t stop shaking even when Zelda gripped his shoulders tightly to ground him. 

“Link, hey, it’s okay, what’s wrong?” she hissed, still keeping a wary eye on their surroundings. “I’m right here, what-“

A prod at her mind made Zelda snap her mouth shut. 

_ L-let him in, Master.  _

Zelda swallowed. Took a deep breath. 

And followed Fi’s advice. 

_ WhywhywhywhyWHY- _

Zelda flinched violently and nearly let go of Link’s shoulders, but a steel-hard grip caught her wrists and clung desperately the next second. 

_ He prayed to me he trusted me I forgot him—he raised me he loved me I couldn’t defend him—you—you- _

Link finally looked up, his eyes still glowing with that odd light—and leaking tears that fell unheeded. The sting of elder spirit-talk rang through Zelda’s skull like the clapper of a bell against bronze.  _ It HURTS why does it hurt so much if I forgot? If I never knew? If I—if I care now—if I trust you—why? Why won’t it stay down?  _

Zelda took a deep breath through the foreign grief that threatened to drag her down with it, reminding herself that it wasn’t hers.  _ “That’s not how grieving someone works, Link.” _

_ They can’t die. We can’t die. I’ve never feared it. I’ve never had to—Satori- _

_ “I know,”  _ said Zelda, suddenly glimpsing what had hit Link so hard.  _ “You’ve never grieved for someone you really cared about, have you? Link…” _

Link released her wrists, still crying silently as his voice switched to the quieter version of spirit-talk. “ _ Satori gave everything to protect me. I can… I can sense him running right now—Zelda, he’s slowing down. He can’t run forever. He’s a sitting duck if he goes back to his mountain to recharge and I’m—I’m in a castle that’s dampening my power and I can’t go with him and leave you I can’t—I can’t…” _

_ “...Save us both?” _

_ “I have to. I protect. That’s my job. I…”  _ Link’s face twisted.  _ “I don’t grieve. I protect, but I don’t get attached. I chose not to… because of the old hero. Why won’t I forget again if I did so fast last time? Why can’t I just focus? We’re all going to die if we fail and I’m crying over someone dead thousands of years ago and someone who won’t even die if I do my job right!” _

Fruitless anger cut through the grief for a split-second, enough for Zelda to understand fully what was going on. 

_ “Link, I felt the same way,”  _ she said, gently cradling his hands in her own. Link accepted the touch limply.  _ “With… with my mother… I felt like I should have done something. Like I should have stood up to my father, shoved past the guards—or maybe that I should have paid more attention to her, maybe I could have caught what killed her instead… but I couldn’t. I could only keep going.” _

Link swallowed and met her eyes.  _ “You were a child. You weren’t…” _

A powerful spirit responsible for half the land. The words went unspoken, but Zelda heard them anyway. It would have been bizarre under any other circumstance—Zelda, young and barely battle-hardened, comforting a spirit whose eyes and words gave away just how strong and old he really was. 

But there were some things a mortal teenager knew better than spirits did. 

_ “And you were young back then too,”  _ she said softly.  _ “You’re weakened right now but it’s not your fault. Grief doesn’t care if you could have done something or not, Link. Grief doesn’t care that it’s been thousands of years, or that it barely has a leg to stand on.” _

Link squeezed her hands with the type of gentleness that suggested steel beneath it.  _ “I hate it.” _

_ “Everyone does,”  _ said Zelda with a humorless chuckle. 

_ “I thought I could ignore it…”  _

_ “So did I.” _

As much as Zelda hated to have to say it, she knew they weren’t safe, that there was still a time limit and a looming danger. Slowly, she tried to stand and pull Link upwards-

_ “He’s getting even slower,”  _ said Link, the words weak and faint in Zelda’s mind. 

Zelda swallowed. 

_ We have ti-time before the Yiga catch on. Enough to ga-gather ourselves, Master.  _

Fi had been quiet up until then—whether it was respect, awkwardness, or her own difficulty speaking was unclear. Whatever the reason, Zelda took the opportunity. 

_ “I’m here,”  _ she said, kneeling again and pulling Link in for a hug. He clung to the fabric over her back in silence, tensing as if waiting for a blow to fall. 

Lightning flashed in the clouds far from Hyrule Castle, splitting the sky just as Link flinched violently. The formerly-bruised clouds turned to the color of pitch and Zelda  _ felt  _ the backlash of Malice surge like bile in her chest, almost worse than sensing the Deku Tree fall. The still air tasted stale and smoky when Zelda tried to breathe, what little sunlight made it through the clouds burned a sickly orange, and the cold flagstones shuddered momentarily—like the imprisoned evil beneath was trying to shake its way out. Link shivered in Zelda’s hold and she held him close, cursing the evil that had brought him down this way. 

_ “I know,”  _ was all she said eventually.  _ “I know.” _

It couldn’t have been longer than a few minutes, but Zelda might as well have held Link for an eternity while they waited for the ripples of Satori’s fall to recede. Everything but grief fell away. Even the ever-present sense of danger faded to the background.

Link moved first. 

_ “Are you…”  _ Zelda wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence when Link pulled away. 

He took a deep breath and stood up smoothly, holding out one hand to help Zelda up. She accepted it, but neither of them moved to keep going. 

_ “Just one thing, then we go. You asked—you asked if I would still be your friend,”  _ said Link.

_ “I did.” _

_ “It hurt you to say it,”  _ said Link.  _ “I want to. I don’t want to wake up one hundred years from now and realize I let another hero just… fade. I don’t want more grief like this. But it’s… in my nature, to forget… I don’t know what all of this will do to me, even if we win.” _

Link leveled his typical even gaze across the tiny gap between them—the face that said “I hope you’re listening, because this is important.”  _ “You deserve the honest answer. If I’m still the same, I’ll still be your friend. If nothing else… if I forget again… that blessing will stick, and I’ll get curious about you.” _

_ “So if nothing else… I’ll see you again.” _

_ “That’s all I can tell you.” _

Zelda squeezed his hand for both of their comfort.  _ “All I wanted was for you to not disappear. Call me selfish, but I had to know if I needed to say goodbye for real.” _

The stone beneath their feet shuddered again and Zelda was abruptly reminded of her mission.  _ “Will you be okay?” _

Link closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The rings of light flashed dangerously when he opened them again, promising a swift end to those in his way—and, far from being off-putting, Zelda found the look understandable.  _ “I think a good fight will be therapeutic.” _

_ “In that case, we need to hurry to the lockup,”  _ said Zelda.  _ “Stay alert. There might be traps-” _

The castle shuddered again. 

_ “Yeah, no more dallying. We move  _ now,” said Zelda, all hesitancy forgotten in the face of the endgame.  _ “Let’s go make sure Satori did the right thing.” _

With the threat of the Yiga at their backs and the promise of a fight before them, Zelda and Link resumed their journey to the depths of Hyrule Castle. Zelda never threw caution to the wind—but as they got further and found not a soul outside of the castle walls, she couldn’t help but wonder why the going was so easy. 

_ Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,  _ she chided herself.  _ Even if it’s probably a trap, at least you don’t have to wear yourself out too much before the finale… _

But there was a part of her that took all the built-up anger and frustration and grief and sharpened it to a point, aimed steadily forward and aching for a target. A part of her that hadn’t cracked every time someone else had had to take the blow of Ganon’s influence: her mother, Impa and Purah, Urbosa, the spirits, even her father,  _ all of Hyrule. _ A part of her that sensed just how close the cause of all that pain was and wanted  _ retribution.  _

The best way to go into a battle—any battle, verbal or literal—was with a clear head. Zelda had long since passed “clarity” and overshot straight into “furious tunnel vision”, which would have to do. She could no longer afford to let herself stop and settle down. The rush of drawing Fi, escaping Korok Forest, and sensing a final battle was fading, replaced by determination. Link wasn’t broken—but he had cracked, and watching him force himself to stand again only added to Zelda’s resolve. 

_ No more. Not if I can help it.  _

Fi buzzed faintly in her sheath.  _ You can help it, Ma-Master. Be warned: I have se-seen heroes driven by anger. It ends… poorly.  _

Zelda wouldn’t let that happen. She had Fi. She still had Link. Their guidance was all the insurance Zelda needed to stay on track. 

Down, down, down, through empty paved pathways and abandoned guard posts and a locked exit door that was easily broken into. Link paled visibly the  _ instant  _ he crossed the threshold into the castle’s depths, but didn’t falter. 

_ Drip, drip.  _

Not a soul in the damp, cold lockup—and though that wasn’t  _ unusual, _ Zelda still didn’t like it. She drew her sword with a faint ring, unleashing the clean blue glow on the shadows before her. They didn’t have to go far for the entrance. If she recalled correctly, it was just past the first junction of chilly passageways… 

_ Drip, drip.  _

Not much farther until the itch beneath Zelda’s skin could be sated. Her footsteps quickened on their own, echoing off the walls like ghosts following close behind. 

_ Drip, drip.  _

Only a little more and they could navigate down, down, down, all the way to Ganon’s level, and finally,  _ finally- _

_ Drip.  _

The passage ended. 

Zelda stopped dead in her tracks, barely heeding the ice-cold water that landed on the tip of her nose on its way to the floor. Link stopped too, but he wasn’t as shocked—he didn’t know what to look for. 

_ “I’ve never been here, but this doesn’t look right,”  _ he said, gesturing to the wall of crumbled brick and collapsed stone. 

_ “It’s not,”  _ said Zelda grimly, crouching to examine the ground. A quick touch to the cold stone and her fingers came back black as night—coated in ash. Stone didn’t burn, but explosions would cause that residue.  _ “This was  _ deliberate. _ The passageway’s been collapsed entirely—and with it, our quickest way underground.” _

Link swallowed.  _ “They knew we were coming here. Here, specifically.” _

Cold fury settled in Zelda’s gut like a hunk of ice and she stood abruptly, clenching the Master Sword so tight that there would probably be imprints on the palm of her glove later. “We’ve come too far for this!”

Her voice bounced jarringly off the cold stone around them for several seconds, disorienting Zelda enough that she reacted slowly when a second voice interrupted it. 

“I agree. You’ve gotten a little too far,  _ Princess.” _

The voice was light, feminine, and eerily familiar—Zelda noted those things almost unconsciously, too focused on brandishing the Master Sword effectively in the cramped passageway.  _ Damn, Link and I are both at a disadvantage. Of all the places to wield a sword longer than my arm! _

Fi made a tiny noise that  _ might  _ have been construed as insult if Zelda were actually paying attention to it. 

“Not a step closer,” Zelda warned, trying to place the new arrival’s face and cursing the fact that her senses were utterly swamped. She knew most of the Shiekah from Kakariko—and despite the white hair and traditional robes, the girl whose voice cut the silence seemed to be none of them. 

Then Zelda saw her eyes. 

_ “Nikala’s attendant. I only saw her once,”  _ she told Link instantly, remembering a shy teenager who had disappeared after Zelda’s arrival.  _ “She’s not Sheikah, not without red eyes. She might have been the one who ratted us out back then.” _

Link’s only reaction was a minute twitch of one ear, but Zelda could excuse the rudeness if it meant he kept an eye on the girl. 

“Wait! I’m here on Lady Nikala’s orders!” yelped the girl, raising both hands when Zelda pointed the Master Sword at her. She looked utterly terrified, but Zelda didn’t really feel bad. 

_ “Can we afford to listen to her?”  _ Link didn’t look away from the girl.

_ “Maybe for a moment.” _

Zelda didn’t lower her sword, but she did relax slightly. “What does she want? And how did you know to find us?”

Something… shifted, and Zelda couldn’t pin it down. The girl’s expression? Her demeanor? Or just the oppressive atmosphere around them?

“The Lady wishes to keep you safe,” said the girl, glancing around the passageway like the walls might grab her. To be fair, Zelda felt much the same way. “She can keep you safe. Were you trying to go down this way…?”

“Why should I trust you?” Zelda demanded, pointing her sword directly at the girl’s chest with a snarl. She didn’t like how the girl kept glancing away and stalling. “All of Hyrule is at stake and we’re in a bit of a time crunch. Forgive me if I’m not too quick to believe Lady Nikala sent you.”

_ “Careful,”  _ murmured Link.  _ “Antagonizing her might not be a good idea…”  _

“Oh! I’m  _ so  _ rude,” said the girl suddenly, clasping her hands together. A creepy smile plastered itself across her face like she knew something they didn’t. “I haven’t even greeted you properly! I hope you’ll forgive the transgression, Highness…”

Something glinted in the shadows behind the girl.

“Because you have bigger concerns.”

Zelda saw the blade before she saw the hulking figure wielding it and did the first thing her panicked instincts said: she ducked. Something  _ whooshed  _ over her head as she turned the duck into a roll and sprang up beyond the girl, taking off the instant she made it past the huge Yiga blademaster trying to lop her head off. Link reversed his grip on his sword and rammed the girl in the chest with its pommel, using her as a battering ram against the blademaster and making a beeline for Zelda. 

“Took you long enough, oaf!” wheezed the girl when she saw them running, winded from Link’s attack. “Get them! This body is  _ useless-” _

_ “She was a distraction!”  _ Zelda realized, pushing faster once the exit came into view and skidding outside with Link in tow and the hulking Yiga in close pursuit. Without any planning, she turned as sharply as possible and kept running—room to maneuver would be paramount. Master Sword or no, a hit from a giant claymore like  _ that  _ would snap her like a twig. 

_ “You think?”  _ Link abruptly dodged to one side and Zelda instinctively followed suit, barely missing the giant blade that came out of  _ nowhere.  _ Link’s blade flashed in the burning orange light and cursed blood splattered to the ground like oil, leaving nothing of their attacker behind but a dark stain on the flagstones.  _ “What now?” _

Zelda ran through the options in her mind at lightning speed—which wasn’t saying much, since there weren’t a lot.  _ “Chances are they’ve blocked all the passageways they could find. We don’t have time to just find one they don’t know about-” _

“OVER HERE, YIGA CLAN!”

Zelda cursed, whipping around to see the false attendant dart out of the lockup entrance and scream at the sky. Link had his bow out without a second’s hesitation and her cries disappeared into a puff of smoke, but the damage was done. 

_ “Run,”  _ Zelda spat, sheathing her sword and breaking into a dead sprint.  _ “Before we’re swamped!” _

_ “Where?” _

_ “Throne room! If we interrogate my father—maybe—just run!” _

Fury erased all of the pain from Zelda’s legs as she forced them to keep moving, to stay on target, keep good form. The Yiga had taken  _ so much  _ and yet had the nerve to sabotage the one thing that had been going right—if Link hadn’t moved so quickly,  _ Zelda  _ would have lopped off the blademaster’s head. 

_ Focus, Master.  _

Zelda let Fi know she was listening and just kept running. They had to get  _ far  _ away from where the Yiga would undoubtedly converging, no matter how much both Zelda and Link wanted to fight.

_ To the right! _

Thanking Hylia for Fi’s abilities, Zelda careened to one side and changed course, bringing Link in tow. They continued in this dodge-and-weave manner up, up, up, aiming for Hyrule Castle’s highest spires and what would hopefully be shelter and not an elaborate tomb. Even when cackling laughter began echoing around the space and disturbing the smoky air, Zelda still didn’t see anyone. Poor Link didn’t even know where they were going, but at least he trusted her guidance. 

_ “Door or window?” _

_ “Window! There should be some lower ones off to the side of the main hall-” _

Zelda silently apologized to whatever craftsman’s work they were wrecking as Link knocked a pane inside and reached through to undo the latch. They both winced at the faint sound of shattering glass, but that couldn’t be helped. Getting to safety, fixing their plan, and killing Ganon were all the things that mattered. 

_ “Here.”  _ Link leapt straight up onto the shoulder-height windowsill and crouched, extending a hand to Zelda. She took it and found herself hoisted into an unexpected  _ bridal carry,  _ of all things, as Link apparently decided it would be faster to carry her down then drop her on the other side. Zelda decided to just roll with it. 

It  _ really _ wasn’t the time to get distracted by indigance. 

The castle proper, surprisingly,  _ wasn’t  _ empty—it seemed all the residents had taken shelter within the buildings, servants, nobles, and knights alike. Zelda would have been more relieved by the care for her peoples’ safety if it hadn’t meant she and Link stumbled right into a crowd of terrified kitchen staff, maids, and guards, all clearly right on the edge of panic. 

“Ah, shit,” blurted Zelda.  _ Not the entrance I needed right now…  _

_ “How many of them still think you’re a traitor?”  _ Link murmured when no one in the crowd moved. Zelda couldn’t answer, too busy scanning the crowd for any threats—or even her father.  _ “Should we… just push through? I don’t like all these eyes on us.” _

_ “Leave it to me,”  _ said Zelda after a moment, unused to so many regular people after traveling with Link for so long. 

“Is that the  _ princess?”  _ someone whispered, the sound carrying all too well in the silent hall. It only emboldened more whispers. 

“Who’s with her?”

“That sword—from books-!”

Zelda recovered herself and strode forward, watching the crowd part before her with trepidation. They didn’t seem to know how to handle her sudden appearance—or that of Link, who followed just behind her with his blade held loosely as if he posed no threat at all. Any fool could see the cursed blood that dripped from it, however. 

“Where is my father?” said Zelda, her voice rough. “Where is King Rhoam? Hiding on his own, or standing with you all?”

Silence. No one would meet her eyes save for a few children clinging to their parents’ legs. 

“Shouldn’t someone… isn’t she a traitor…?”

Zelda couldn’t pin down where the voice came from. Judging by how the crowd shuffled awkwardly and glanced around suspiciously,  _ some  _ could but wouldn’t say. 

“I’m not here to hurt any of the people of Hyrule,” she said, forcing her voice to come out level and calm. “I’m here to save you all—but I can’t do it unless I find my father.  _ He’s  _ part of the reason… well, look outside.”

A few people did—suspiciously, but no one had moved to clap her in irons yet, so Zelda counted it as a win. 

“I know what’s been said about me, but I pose no threat to you. My actions are hard to explain in a short period of time,” said Zelda. “Please. I need to know for all our sakes. My father has important information that could save Hyrule if I have it.”

More awkward shuffling.

“I’d like to believe you, your Highness.” An older maid stepped forward, disregarding the fussing of the other women with her by leveling a severe look at them. “But…” 

“Ask where she got that  _ sword,”  _ whispered a child from behind the maid. 

_ “Tell them who you are,”  _ prompted Link.  _ “If we can’t hit anyone, getting past a hostile crowd won’t be easy. They need to let us pass.” _

Zelda drew the Master Sword and held it high for a moment, letting people squint and gawk at the comforting blue gleam. Fi chimed in a wordless greeting. “I bear the sword of evil’s bane. I am a descendant of Hylia. I am the Hero reincarnate on a quest from legend. This is what my father falsely hoped to achieve by urging our people to  _ pray  _ against the tide—I’m stepping up to fight it myself. I don’t have proof besides this sword… but I swear to you that I speak the truth.”

Silence. 

Then- 

“The throne room.”

The voice came from behind her, but Zelda didn’t try to find the owner when they hadn’t bothered to come forward. She’d leave their privacy. “He’s holed up there?”

“He summoned all the representatives,” said someone else, breaking the dam and causing a flurry of answers to flood in. 

“He’s been acting strange-”

“-ordered all the waitstaff to find our own shelter and stay out of the way-”

“-and the Zora princess tried to tell him no but he just  _ snapped-” _

_ Mipha?  _ Zelda swallowed back an angry hiss. She had no intentions whatsoever of hurting her father, but hearing about the  _ new  _ transgressions was beginning to shake her resolve. 

As if echoing her thoughts, the castle’s heavy stone walls trembled like glass about to break, spreading terrified silence throughout the room. Zelda glanced outside warily and saw no Yiga, much to her relief—but that didn’t mean they weren’t nearby. 

“Thank you. Thank you all,” she said hurriedly, all-too-aware of the time limit. “I have to go. Stay inside unless the castle is compromised, understand? Things are about to get  _ very  _ messy.”

The crowd cleared a path before her and Zelda took off with Link in tow, wary of what lay ahead and bitter over what lay behind.  _ Possessed or not, misled or not, my father will pay for mistreating the people he’s supposed to lead.  _

Focused as they were, Link and Zelda weren’t  _ nearly  _ as vigilant as they should have been. Turning the very first corner dropped them both straight into a trap. 

Or, more accurately, they were  _ yanked  _ into the trap—the walls, actually—Link by hands larger than wagon wheels and Zelda by a set of black gloves. The hands effortlessly pulled Zelda backwards, off her feet,  _ away from Link, why _ was Fi so  _ silent- _

Zelda nearly took Lady Nikala’s head off before she realized  _ why _ Fi wouldn’t warn her. 

_ “Wait! Friends!”  _ she frantically told Link, who was doing his level best to crack Lord Daruk’s grip open from the inside. To his credit, Daruk held on for a good three seconds before having to drop the kicking spirit. 

“Was that  _ necessary-” _

Nikala shushed Zelda like an ornery schoolteacher. “Not. Here.”

She tried to start pushing Zelda through the hidden passageway they were in—sadly, not one of the ones that led underground—but Zelda shoved the hand from her shoulder just as insistently. “I can walk, thanks.”

Nikala actually seemed thrown off for a moment by Zelda’s shortness, but she only nodded a moment later and took the lead. Typical Sheikah manners to brush off any slight from the royal family with a stony face… at least Zelda didn’t have to worry about offending her. Getting unexpectedly seized in hostile territory would put  _ anyone  _ ill at ease, in fairness. 

_ So-sorry. I sensed no Mal-Malice from them. _

_ You’re okay, Fi. No one was hurt. _

On a whim, Zelda twisted to see how Link was doing and ask Daruk what in the name of all that was holy possessed him to restrain a  _ spirit  _ and saw Link accepting an apologetic backslap, which seemed to suit him just fine. Poor Daruk had to sidle through the narrow passage—granted, it was really only narrow to someone his size—but that only made his presence more confusing. 

“Heya, tiny Highness,” said Daruk, his voice strained after a particularly cramped section. “Sorry about grabbing your friend here—the Lady said he’s too strong for anyone else to hold.”

“She’s not wrong, but what-”

Nikala cleared her throat as a fork in the passageway came up, sending a reproving glance back their way. Daruk sighed and stopped talking, but Zelda didn’t feel like taking any silencing. 

“What are you doing stopping us both? We’re a little  _ busy,”  _ said Zelda acidly, quickening her pace to try and get level with Nikala. 

“Your Highness,  _ please.  _ I’ll explain in a moment,” she said, giving Zelda an impressive side-eye. “There have been developments in your absence. I trust you didn’t come here expecting to face only enemies? That would have been foolish, with the way you just ran right inside.”

Zelda frowned and decided not to dignify that with a response. If she’d get answers soon, good—the sooner she did, the sooner she could get under Hyrule Castle and end things. 

_ Calm, Master…  _

After what felt like hours but was probably just minutes, Nikala stopped next to a featureless wall and knocked thrice with the pommel of her kodaichi. A tense moment passed before rustling was heard and a cleverly-disguised door popped open from the inside. 

“Ah, Mom’s back,  _ lovely. _ Got time for  _ my  _ speech now? I made flashcards and everything.”

_ That voice-! _

Zelda gasped and shoved forward, tackling Purah in a bear hug without further ado. Her surrogate sister made an  _ oof  _ noise and hugged back almost instantly, laughing hoarsely. Zelda buried her face in Purah’s shoulder, relief cracking the shell of her determination for a brief second. 

“Zelda! Goddess, I—your hair!” Purah drew back and held Zelda at arm’s length, gawking. “You got a rebellious haircut  _ without me?  _ I disappear into the wilds for  _ less than a week-” _

“Purah, now is not the time,” said Nikala disapprovingly, herding them forward so that Link and Daruk could enter. 

“Can it,” snapped Purah. “Last time I saw Zelda she was nearly  _ dead.  _ We have a little time to catch her up on things.”

Zelda coughed awkwardly and stepped back, taking a moment to examine her surrondings while Purah and Nikala stared each other down. They seemed to be in an unused safe room, large enough for Daruk to comfortably walk around in and dimly lit by a series of old wall lanterns. A table sat just in front of the door covered in maps and bits of parchment, while the chairs that matched it were arranged against the wall in a line along with random pieces of furniture. 

“This, according to records that don’t officially exist, was a shelter for the royal family about… five generations back,” said Nikala, breaking her staring contest with Purah. “You had a rather paranoid great-extended-grandfather. We’ve been planning our route here.”

_ “We _ meaning…?” Zelda prompted.

“Myself, the four representatives of each race and whoever came with them, my daughters, and Purah’s… lab partner.”

“I  _ said  _ to stop saying it like that and respect his title,” muttered Purah, drifting over to the messy table. “Everyone else is out acting like things are normal.”

“Things are a little crazy, tiny Highness,” said Daruk with a booming chuckle. “It’s a long story for just a few days. I’m guessing you’ve had a long few days too, though, judging by the new…”

He gestured up and down while fruitlessly searching for a word. “New  _ you, _ I guess. We’ve just been doing our best with the intel we’ve got!”

“Which isn’t  _ much,”  _ said Purah with a heavy sigh. 

“Hold on,” said Zelda, pinching the bridge of her nose. Link wisely stepped aside, going to stand with Purah and see what she was doing. “Impa’s  _ here?  _ You told me she was in Gerudo Town still!”

“Lady Urbosa was unaware at the time of telling me that my daughter managed to stow away on her caravan,” said Nikala smoothly. “Impa is alive and well.”

“Alive and well and with  _ excellent  _ word choice,” said Purah smugly, punctuating her words by rapping a sheaf of paper on the table to straighten it. They seemed to be blueprints of some kind when Zelda glanced at them. 

Nikala’s mouth tightened when Zelda frowned. “Forgive me, your Highness, but that’s a… family matter. Nevertheless, we’re-”

“Staging a coup!” Purah brandished the “blueprints” she’d been gathering in Zelda’s face, revealing them to actually be diagrams of the castle covered in scribbled notes. Her eyes gleamed in the dim lantern light like a Wizzrobe watching elements fall. “We didn’t know  _ exactly  _ what you were after, but we figured it all had to come from the throne—so the solution is obvious. Topple the throne!”

Zelda gaped openly, completely taken aback. She still didn’t even know how Purah (and apparently Robbie) had made it to the castle, and here she was learning about a  _ coup  _ staged by  _ Sheikah.  _

_ The worst part—somehow—is that they’re right. _

“Wh—how did you get multiple world leaders in on a  _ coup?”  _ Zelda sputtered, losing her steely glare for the moment. Link glanced at everyone in the room, saw how tense it was, and went back to examining the table intently. 

“Ask the leaders in question. This was Lady Urbosa’s idea, and as Lord Daruk said, it’s a long story,” said Nikala. “I am loyal to  _ you, _ not the false king. It was an easy decision for myself and my family.”

Zelda looked at Daruk with her eyes wide. 

_ “Everyone’s  _ in danger because of what’s happening to the spirits, yeah?” he said, his normally-friendly demeanor melting into sternness to rival Nikala’s. “It doesn’t make sense to me, but it doesn’t have to. Death Mountain needs Dinraal’s protection directly—and even if it didn’t, I wouldn’t be a true Goron leader if I sat idly by! Sorry to betray your father’s trust and all that, but some things are more important.”

Zelda shook her head. “No, I understand. We only entered the castle to interrogate him, actually.”

Purah snorted. “That’s my girl.”

Nikala eyed her daughter with disapproval but said nothing. Zelda couldn’t help but wonder what had happened—Purah being antagonistic to her mother was nothing new, but had  _ Impa  _ of all people talked back? Was that what “excellent word choice” had meant? That was the least of Zelda’s confusion, really, she had a  _ million  _ questions that she normally would have asked. 

Instead, she took a breath and let herself settle. “What’s the plan? I’ve got a sword right here to put through evil’s chest.”

Purah blinked, stepping back unconsciously. “Yikes, are you okay? We weren’t gonna  _ murder  _ your father-”

“Not my father. There’s a corpse underneath Hyrule Castle that I need to re-kill,” said Zelda succinctly. Silence met her words. 

_ “You scared them,”  _ muttered Link, a hint of a humorless laugh underneath his words. 

“That would explain the tremors,” Nikala murmured, glancing at the stone beneath her feet. “Well. Your Highness, we can fill you in on our end of the plan, but we ultimately don’t know how to end this battle. The others will arrive momentarily to finalize things. From here on, I defer to you.”

Purah choked on spit at that. 

Zelda met Nikala’s eyes coolly, for once in her life actually feeling like the superior. 

“It all hinges on this,” she began, drawing the Master Sword. 

—

_ “I can cause trouble from the moat and distract them, but not for long.” Mipha’s clawed finger tapped a rhythm on her headpiece idly as she spoke. “You’re certain that’s the best way through? The Yiga might be expecting us to pull something like this… but it’s all we can do, isn’t it?” _

Zelda didn’t bother to sheathe the Master Sword or be stealthy as she made her way upwards. She wasn’t trying to pass unnoticed through the corridors—quite the opposite, in fact. The more people saw that she was on her way, the better. 

_ “Sure, I could bust through.” Daruk set the diagrams down with a nod, finishing his appraisal of the area beneath the throne room. “I’d need some time to get into place, and it might take a coupl’a hits, but Hylian stonework’s got nothing on Goron strength! You can count on me, tiny Highness. You’ll need to borrow your friend’s paraglider to get down.” _

Link was always quiet, but his glow was hard to mistake and his  _ presence  _ was impossible to ignore even if Zelda hadn’t been using spirit-talk. Neither of them hesitated to move when the odd patrolling Yiga footsoldier spotted them and tried to attack—they left quite the trail. 

_ “I’ll go with you. The windows are plenty overlarge and indulgent enough for me to shoot through them from the outside if need be.” Revali twirled an arrow over his wing nonchalantly, letting the tip flash in the dull light. “All I need is a quick way outside and you’re covered.” _

Zelda saw the flash of navy-blue feathers through the hallway windows and noted it distantly. The smallest part of her wondered why a high-ranking Rito warrior who barely knew her bothered to respect her plan, but Zelda chose to be grateful to have a good archer watching her back as the throne room doors came into sight. 

_ “I’ll be at your back, Little Bird. I have no doubt he suspects I am some kind of conspirator already—there’s hardly a point in me sitting back and relaxing.” Urbosa’s sword clanked softly as she leaned down to pat Zelda’s shoulder affectionately. “You have my sword and shield, though it pains me that the brunt of the job falls to you.” _

Urbosa alone would have drawn plenty of attention—even if she hadn’t been making the skies above the castle crackle ominously. No lightning yet, not when they needed Revali’s eyes in the sky, but she wouldn’t hesitate if things went south and Zelda knew it. 

_ “Impa and our mother will be in the shadows, like they always are. Robbie and I are backup—you should see the stuff we’ve got running from what we had to leave in the labs!” Purah’s glasses did nothing to obscure the gleam in her eyes. “I even made sure to sabotage the latches on every door I could get my mitts on, including the throne room… I’m sure you know what I’m going for here.” _

Zelda had always hated the gaudy throne room doors. As a child, they meant wandering into a room full of  _ meetings  _ and  _ politics  _ and her father saying  _ no, Zelda, not right now, this is more important.  _ She wasn’t big enough to be important, and even once she was, her father never really changed his mind. The doors remained the world’s ugliest portal into stifling silence for all of Zelda’s memory. 

_ CRASH. _

Zelda didn’t even slow down. 

The heel of her boot plus the momentum of her seething march was enough to crack the sabotaged lock in two and send the doors flying open with a  _ BANG _ to rival Urbosa’s lightning. Zelda took sick pleasure in watching wood splinters hit the stone floor for all of a second before going back to business. 

Two royal guards wearing Yiga crests scrambled for her, but Link went left and Urbosa went right and cursed blood splattered to the floor. Zelda let them—her eyes were on the silent man who sat above them all.

“Afternoon,  _ Father,”  _ she spat, leveling the Master Sword up towards him. “Or is your name something else,  _ Yiga?” _

The throne creaked as two muscled hands squeezed its armrests in hidden fury, though the figure’s face remained impassive. “King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule…” 

Zelda narrowed her eyes. It  _ sounded  _ like her father’s voice, but… 

“No… I have no name… and this pawn is no longer useful enough for one.” A horrible, twisted smile coiled across the king’s face like a knife through fabric. “You will fall here,  _ Princess.” _

_ “He might have just been influenced before, but he’s totally under their control by this point,”  _ said Link.  _ “Or… replaced?” _

“Is that the body of my father or just a clever fake?” Zelda demanded. 

“Is that the true Hero’s Spirit or just a clever fake?” the Yiga shot back. Disturbingly, it sounded  _ exactly  _ like her father’s trademark angry voice—the one he used on misbehaving courtiers and, of course, Zelda herself. “We’re stronger now,  _ Princess.  _ Even as we speak the forces of darkness converge on this spot. You’re a fool! A pretty bird with useless, glowing claws in a  _ cage.  _ That spirit with you has been a thorn in our master’s side for too long, hiding you away like he did. You-”

_ “Good job getting him to monologue,”  _ Link muttered as an aside, never taking his eyes off the throne’s increasingly-manic occupant. 

_ “Let’s keep him going so Daruk can work his magic.” _

“This useless body issued that kill order without argument, you know,” gloated the Yiga. “His own child! Some  _ Hero  _ you hope to be, scorned by your own blood in favor of a Goddess who can’t even  _ see  _ Her people anymore.”

“And yet she is accepted wholeheartedly by everyone else,” Urbosa countered. “Release the king, Yiga. Your traitorous cause ends here.”

The Yiga threw his head back and cackled. “Oh, chief of lightning!  _ You  _ are the traitor, for our Lord is of  _ your  _ blood! He will rise again and take your throne—I only hope he makes his usurper’s death  _ slow.” _

Zelda felt something boil over and she stepped forward on instinct, partially shielding Urbosa. “Last I checked, a dead man can’t rule the Gerudo. You Yiga and your precious Lord are nothing more than walking corpses that I will put to rest. You fear this blade, don’t you?”

The Yiga flinched when Zelda brandished the Master Sword at him and she let her  _ own _ twisted smile spread into existence. 

_ “Remember, we need to talk, not fight.” _

_ Listen to Link, Ma-Master…  _

“I drew this sword with my own two hands and I’ll use it to end all of this,” swore Zelda, glaring down the blade and straight at the eyes of her father. Were they starting to take on a vibrant yellow hue, or was she seeing things?

The castle trembled. 

“HA! See? Even now his power shakes the very foundations of your Goddess’ glorified shrine,” snarled the Yiga. He waited for a moment, perhaps expecting Zelda to have a witty comeback. “What? Cucco got your tongue? Finally giving in?”

“Not quite,” said Zelda, glancing out one of the windows. A single kunai flew up from below it as if teleported, burying itself in the windowsill. _ Impa’s signal.  _

The castle shook again, this time accompanied by a muffled war cry and the distinctive sound of stone crumbling under steel. 

“What was that? A signal?” the Yiga’s face was beginning to turn purple as realization flickered onto his all-too-familiar features. “You’re planning something!”

The next rumble cut him off, leaving the Yiga only capable of sputtering. “You—YOU-!”

“Me,” Zelda agreed, lowering the Master Sword to a ready position. 

“How DARE you! You thought to  _ distract  _ me?” the Yiga roared, surging to his feet only to stumble again when Daruk hit the wall below the throne room once more. 

_ “This place used to be for stargazing, WAY back in the day—we’ve sadly lost the technology. BUT! The castle was built atop it for “spiritual reasons” and the original tunnel remains!” Robbie declared, waving his schematic in the air like a trophy. “All it would take is a reliable way down and a hole in one of the adjacent walls and we’re golden! Make sure the hole’s up high, though, there’s not a lot that can get through what the observatory’s walls are made of… anyways, that’ll be your way down. I’m sure Revali can get you back up once everything’s over.” _

_ “And it’ll give Link and I access to the catacombs?” _

_ “Yeah, the old observatory was a hub for everything going on down there. You’ll have to find your own way, though.” _

__ “It doesn’t matter! Your path ends here!”

The distinct sound of Yiga teleporation filled the room as backup arrived for the enemy at last. Zelda counted herself lucky that  _ her  _ stalling had worked better than theirs—but no time for that. Daruk was nearly through, according to Impa’s signal; Zelda had to act  _ now  _ or fail. 

The sensation of flesh giving way underneath her blade, however warped and undead it was, gave Zelda an extra taste of nausea as she raced to defend herself. Electricity crackled and green light arced through the air as Urbosa and Link each took their own paths through the Yiga’s ranks, sending cursed blood to the floor and bloodred masks flying. Zelda cut her way across the room and up the dais, cornering her not-father before he could escape.

“Kill me and you kill your father too!” he sputtered, backing away. “You wouldn’t-”

Zelda lashed out with her fist and caught him right on the jaw, sending her adversary to the floor like a sack of bricks. She wouldn’t deny that it felt  _ good.  _

“Get going! We can deal with this!” 

Urbosa’s voice cut through the din of battle the same way her sword cut through her enemies, but Zelda could tell her words weren’t entirely true.  _ How do I keep them safe and keep going at the same time? _

_ Like this, Master.  _

Fi gave Zelda fleeting images of what to do and receded, giving Zelda space to raise the Master Sword above her head and slam it point-down into the flagstones. For a moment, nothing happened. 

Then- 

With a chime and a flash blue light flared from the point of impact and covered the entire throne room, painting the walls with Fi’s holy glow. The Yiga screeched when it hit them, either teleporting away or getting blown out the windows as the shockwave ran its course. 

_ “That’s new,”  _ said Link after a shocked second had passed, turning around to squint up at Zelda. The light had bypassed him and Urbosa entirely, leaving them both glittering for a split-second before it faded. 

“Yeah, I just went with what Fi said. Let’s move,” said Zelda shortly, sheathing the Master Sword and taking the fastest route to the floor—vaulting off the dais and turning her landing somersault into a run. The castle hadn’t stopped trembling even after Daruk had broken through, and Zelda knew  _ exactly  _ why. 

A grappling hook came flying up from the same area as the kunai had not long ago, and Zelda was the first person to grab the rope and shimmy down to the rocky outcropping. Impa was there waiting already, along with her mother and a very shaken-looking Daruk. 

“Got through! But, uh…” he jabbed a massive thumb at the opening and searched for words. “Just—just see for yourself.”

As Zelda approached, Master Sword drawn, Fi chimed in alarm and seemed to stick herself to Zelda’s hand.  _ Do not dr-dro-drop me-! _

Daruk had already backed away. Impa and Nikala did the same as Zelda got closer. Even  _ Link  _ couldn’t stand it once Zelda was on the edge, looking down into a seemingly-bottomless pit. 

A pit full of  _ Malice.  _

The stuff lined the walls like a hideous tapestry, oozing as far as Zelda could see down and dripping from the ceiling in goopy blobs. It reacted to her proximity with a violent hiss, rearing back from the light of the Master Sword and dissolving. 

“What’s wrong?” Zelda asked, turning to look at her companions. Impa looked nauseous, Nikala’s face was so carefully passive it bordered on robotic, Urbosa’s lips were pinched tight, and Daruk’s fists were flickering with the fiery light of his shield. Revali landed as far away as he possibly could, looking so ruffled that he resembled a defensive Octorock. 

And Link… Link looked  _ bad,  _ as pale and drawn as he had been right after blessing her. 

“I—ohhhhh, one second.” Impa clamped a hand over her mouth and held up a finger, turning greenish. Daruk awkwardly patted her shoulder while she held back retches. 

_ “They can’t get too close. They definitely can’t follow down there,”  _ said Link, switching to shaky sign for the benefit of the others.  _ “I… I don’t think I can either. I’m sorry.” _

Zelda swallowed. She’d been expecting backup from  _ Link  _ at least. “You’re sure?”

“Ugh… sorry, tiny Highness, but that stuff—it feels…” Daruk shuddered, his shield flickering on again. 

“Don’t apologize. It’s deadly,” said Zelda, kicking herself for forgetting the effects Malice had on unprepared mortals. “I think… Fi?”

_ I can pro-protect you for some ti-time.  _

“I’m protected,” said Zelda aloud. “But… just me. The sword keeps me safe.”

_ Not fo-forever. _

_ I don’t need forever.  _

“I’ll go down alone. This doesn’t change much,” continued Zelda. She held up a hand to stop Impa (or anyone else) from protesting. “I’ll be just fine. I need a distraction at my back anyway—the more battles the Yiga have to cover, the more time I have to get to their leader before they try to stop me.”

“Ah, so we’re a mere distraction.” Revali, with all his typical grace, somehow managed to still be snarky despite his resemblance to a feathery ball of lint. He backtracked just slightly when Zelda looked at him, strangely. “No, I understand. If anyone can give you all the time in the world, it’s me. The rest will have to keep up.”

He took off in a blast of wind a moment later, letting everyone else deal with the Malice and aiming for the moat.  _ Providing support for Mipha, then—or maybe just news. _

__ “No time to lose,” said Nikala after taking her eyes off of Revali’s retreat. “Princess, know that we will fight with the best of our ability to keep Hyrule safe. I trust you to accomplish your mission.”

With that, she bowed and seized the rope dangling from above, climbing out of sight with impressive grace for someone her age. Zelda couldn’t help but wish—just for a moment—that she had the same freedom to leave as Nikala. 

_ I’m wishing for the “freedom” of a woman who’s never made a decision outside of her creed before. Goddess, the Malice must be doing things to me…  _

“Come back safe,” said Impa quietly, still more than a little green. Zelda stepped away from the Malice to hug her, then watched her longtime guard and oldest friend climb away. 

“Good luck, tiny highness. We’ll keep ‘em from finding you!”

“I won’t say goodbye because I know we’ll meet again. Until we see victory, Little Bird.”

Link didn’t make a move to follow the others. 

_ “No dying, understand?”  _ he said after a moment.  _ “No getting stabbed, or eating weird mushrooms, or falling off a cliff, or however else I’ve seen adventurers die. Come back safe.” _

_ “Same goes for you,”  _ said Zelda, taking a tentative step closer. She had an armful of spirit less than a second later, clinging tight like the world would end if he didn’t. 

_ “I’m sorry I can’t go with you.” _

_ “It’s not your fault.”  _ Zelda tried and failed to hide the tiny tremble of fear in her heart over ending the battle without him. 

_ “You’re not alone.” _

_ “I know, Fi is-“ _

_ “No.”  _ Link pulled away, holding her at arm’s length with a solemn expression.  _ “My blessing. There’s a reason our blessings have to be a part of our domains—each one is a tiny fragment of the spirit it came from. Like… a piece of our souls, stuck to mortals so that they’ll gain the protection of our domain.” _

_ “That’s…” _

_ “The soul part fades and leaves just our magic, usually,”  _ said Link.  _ “What I gave you was the most powerful blessing I’ve ever made. It’s all still there. If that makes you feel better…” _

Zelda reached up and took his hand in hers, squeezing tightly.  _ “It does.” _

The castle shook again. 

Zelda stepped away from Link, letting go of his hand. 

_ “Go help the others,”  _ she said, sheathing Fi and unhooking her borrowed paraglider as she stepped towards the hole.  _ “Good luck, Link.” _

_ “I’ve never needed it. Keep all the luck for yourself, Zelda.” _

Link gave her one last fleeting smile before leaping straight up and latching onto the rope, shimmying out of sight even faster than Impa had. He had a job to do. Hyrule had spirits to preserve. Urbosa, Daruk, Revali, and Mipha had their own people to protect.

Zelda had someone to stab. 

“Let’s end this,” she murmured to Fi, who chimed once. 

_ Do no-not let go of my ha-handle when you land, Master. For sa-sa-safety.  _

Zelda took one last look at the burning sky and made a running leap into darkness, putting all of her focus on the target below. 

_ I’m coming for you, Ganon, and you better be ready for me. It’s time to pay.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know how the floor breaks and drops you into the big lab thing in botw? Basically what they did here is go through the wall instead. I love tweaking canon things like that. 
> 
> Also! Next chapter is a departure from the pattern! Surely no one’s really ACHING to find out what happens to Zelda right away... since you’ll have to wait a bit. You’ll see. Questions will be answered and background plotlines will be brought to light ;) until then!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “What’s this?” you say. “A POV chapter that doesn’t start with Zelda or Link?”
> 
> I’m changing the pattern with this one, but no worries, we’ll be back to our regularly scheduled princess and spirit in the finale. Though, you might not want to see what’s going on in Link’s head by the end of this... 
> 
> I had this written and fully edited by Wednesday, but I put it off until today as a birthday gift for a dear mutual of mine. Happy birthday, Kip! Please don’t kill me for the amount of angst I shoved in here. 
> 
> (Warning for a LOT of blood and violence in this chapter)

Contrary to popular belief, Urbosa was not afraid of the king of Hyrule. She knew he was no threat on his own—not to her. Were it a straight fight she would win and both parties knew it. 

All the rumors of Urbosa’s cowardice (or lack thereof) came from her stepping out of Hyrulean royal affairs after her partner’s death. Why would she leave Rhoam to his own devices, said the gossipers, if she didn’t fear retribution for crossing him? 

Those gossipers never considered Rhoam’s  _ child  _ when they tittered about who would receive consequences for a breach of diplomacy. 

Hyrule’s crown princess was needed in her homeland, for political and spiritual reasons. She couldn’t leave for longer than a week or two, let alone to live in Gerudo Desert like Urbosa wished she could, and she could hardly let a man not of Hylia’s descent have the throne in a capacity outside being regent. She  _ definitely  _ couldn’t claim kinship with the Gerudo even when they all considered her theirs regardless. 

Urbosa was under similar constraints, unable to abandon her people to go parent a Hylian child no matter how much she wanted to. Rhoam even made it clear that her presence served only to bring up “bad memories” and that Zelda would benefit from distance.

Urbosa never did hear Zelda’s reaction to that particular decree. Not a day went by where she didn’t regret having to leave… 

_ This has been a long time coming, you old Keese.  _

— 

_ The “invitation”, if it could be called that, came early one morning not long after Zelda disappeared with the spirit of the wilds. Urbosa was in the middle of an early-morning sparring session (a wonderfully effective way to get her frustrations out) when an attendant came running onto the courtyard, her clacking shoes announcing her entrance before it happened.  _

_ “Lady Urbosa! For you, from Hyrule Castle!” _

_ Urbosa noted the attendant’s near-panicked state with alarm, sheathing her scimitar and hurrying over to the entrance to reassure her. If it was just from Zelda like usual, then why—but it wouldn’t be. Zelda wasn’t in the castle.  _

_ “From King Rhoam of Hyrule, My Lady,” said the attendant nervously, holding the thin envelope out to Urbosa carefully. Her dislike of the Hylian king was the Gerudo’s worst-kept secret, so Urbosa was hardly surprised that such caution came with the missive. “He sent a voe courier who insisted you see this right away.” _

_ Inwardly, Urbosa sighed. It was a power move—why send a Hylian vai when he could make one of her people do some of the legwork? Outwardly, she only accepted the envelope and dismissed the attendant with a carefully-neutral expression.  _

Lady Urbosa, 

I hope you are well. I am sure you are aware of my daughter’s recent transgressions… 

_ The letter continued in that terse, stuck-up manner, eventually wrapping up in an order to report to Hyrule Castle disguised as a cordial invitation. No matter that Urbosa had to handle the loss of Tera’s influence and Farosh’s presence, no matter that Urbosa had people to look out for and stop from panicking  _ because _ of those losses. She simply had to show up. Hylian monarchs traditionally had more political power over their neighbors—refusing would not only be poor form, but a risk for the Gerudo.  _

Clever voe. 

_ Something seemed… odd, about the phrasing of the letter. Urbosa had had the displeasure of much time around Rhoam, and she knew how he dictated his words both aloud and in ink. The letter didn’t quite match up with that. Combined with what Zelda had told her about things being strange within the castle and having to dodge her father to investigate the spirits—Urbosa was no fool. Something was afoot.  _

_ “Is something wrong?” _

_ Belatedly, Urbosa realized she had let herself start to scowl thunderously and clench the paper tight enough to rip. She looked up to see a sunburnt Impa standing in the entrance to the courtyard with her arms clasped behind her back like a soldier, watching Urbosa with curious eyes. _

_ “Not particularly. You’ll simply have to be under the protection of Gerudo Town at large, and not myself, for a while,” said Urbosa, extending the letter for Impa to read (disregarding the warning near the bottom not to show anyone else, incidentally). “I have to set up a traveling party. This hardly reads as just a  _ friendly visit.”

_ Impa’s eyes sparked when she finished the letter. “It doesn’t say you  _ can’t _ bring guests…” _

_ “I doubt Zelda would be there,” said Urbosa, spotting Impa’s intent. “Besides, Zelda left you here explicitly to keep you safe from her assailants. She wouldn’t want you taking unnecessary risks.” _

_ Impa pursed her lips but nodded, handing the letter back and setting off into the town. Urbosa watched her go for a moment without an ounce of suspicion, trusting Sheikah loyalty to keep Impa safely in Gerudo Town.  _

_ Later, in the spare moments before Urbosa would have to set out, Impa showed up at her bedroom door. The guards either didn’t notice her presence or chose to let her pass—either way, Urbosa dismissed the break in protocol.  _

_ “Do you need something?” she asked, standing and watching Impa’s stoic face carefully for any cracks. She doubted there would be any, but still.  _

_ “You’ll likely be seeing my mother in the castle,” said Impa, getting straight to the point. “She… will not think lightly of my presence here.” _

_ Urbosa made a noncommittal hum in the back of her throat. She knew Nikala from years by her late queen’s side—a businesslike and shrewd woman, who viewed any deviation from her job as nothing less than an affront to Hylia.  _

_ What a dull way to live.  _

_ “Would you prefer I tell her you left with Zelda?” _

_ “No. She wouldn’t like being lied to, and there’s no point. The truth always comes out around my mother—she probably already figured it out somehow. I’m just… warning you.” _

_ “I understand,” said Urbosa softly.  _

_ Impa sighed in a weary way that no one her age should have been able to produce. “I just wish she was a little more lenient about these things, sometimes… it feels like she was  _ born  _ insisting that we live up to our destinies.” _

_ “Perhaps not born that way,” said Urbosa, “But she’s certainly been like that since we were young women. You are not her, Impa.” _

_ Impa huffed. “She would have stuck with the princess.” _

_ “And you made the tactical decison not to, which might end up saving the spirits.” Urbosa stepped over to Impa and gently laid a hand on her shoulder. “Remember that. I must leave now, but know that your instinct led you to the right decision.” _

— 

Urbosa narrowed her eyes at Hyrule Castle’s spires as her horse trotted closer without a care in the world. The wagon carrying various trading goods—because if nothing else, Urbosa would give her people some extra income for this mess—clattered just to her right, but the noise was easily tuned out. Somewhere up there Rhoam was waiting. 

Somewhere up there a  _ coward _ who had sent out a kill order on his own daughter was waiting. 

Urbosa reminded herself to remain cordial and act as though things were normal. Being accepted into the castle went about as smoothly as it could, save for her internal struggle not to snap, and she was left to her own devices in her rooms. That… was odd. 

“The king will summon you when the other guests arrive,” said a very prim butler, bowing out of the door and disappearing. Urbosa sighed heavily.  _ I am no dog to be summoned at a whim- _

But no sooner had the butler left did another knock disturb the room, leaving Urbosa surprised and suspicious. She opened the door with no small amount of caution, fingers at the ready to summon lightning.

“Good day, Lady Urbosa. You are well, I presume?”

The king’s shadowy right hand stood before her, looking eerily similar to the daughter left behind in Gerudo Town. Only age lines and a more severe disposition let Urbosa tell Lady Nikala apart from Impa. 

“As well as I can be, these days,” Urbosa said. “Why are you here, if I may?”

“For no reasons I dare discuss in the hallway,” said Lady Nikala. “May I come in?”

Wordlessly, Urbosa stood aside and shut the door once Lady Nikala had slipped inside. She watched, bemused, as her new guest set about checking behind curtains, inside closets, under the bed, and anywhere else she could find. Was she looking for shadow demons?

“I thought Sheikah ruled the shadows,” said Urbosa lightly. “Do you fear them now?”

“I fear what may lurk in them,” said Lady Nikala, straightening and turning to face her. “We have a problem.”

“I’ll say. Your king-“

“-is at the center, yes,” said Lady Nikala. “You know of the spirits and their plight.  _ I  _ know of just how far the princess has gotten in investigating that, and I suspect the king is not in his right mind.”

Lady Nikala filled her in on the events in Kakariko Village and the king’s subsequent order for his spies to report to the castle, plus the presence of a “strange aura” wherever the king went. Despite her professional demeanor, Urbosa caught a shake in Lady Nikala’s voice. 

_ Not good. Anything that scares a high-ranking Sheikah is bound to be extremely bad news.  _

“The princess escaped, otherwise we’d see some impressive backlash,” said Lady Nikala brusquely. “I came to warn you. I doubt either the king or his puppeteer means well for you or the others he so graciously summoned.”

Urbosa raised a suspicious eyebrow. “You don’t seem loyal.”

“Of course I am,” said Lady Nikala, unruffled by the implied accusation. “Sheikah serve the Goddess, not the crown. Who has that blood between the king and his daughter?”

Urbosa would never argue with a Sheikah pursuing their creed. She knew a liar when she saw one, and Lady Nikala was being as open as she had ever been in Urbosa’s presence. 

“I should have stood up to that man when I had the chance,” she muttered darkly. 

“I’m beginning to think I should have done the same,” said Lady Nikala. “Both of us were bound by duty now in the past. Your loyalty has always been to your people and the Princess before anything else. Mine now applies in the same manner. We must do all we can to ensure she lives her holy destiny.”

“Excuse me?” said Urbosa, honestly incredulous—a rare reaction from her. “Her destiny? I am here to ensure my  _ daughter  _ lives her  _ life.  _ I couldn’t care less about destiny.”

Lady Nikala took this with a cool expression. “And destiny couldn’t care less about you or me, Lady Urbosa. It cared about patterns. It cares about resolutions. Zelda fits the pattern. I must slot into my own.”

Urbosa scowled. “Is that so?”

“Trust me, Lady Urbosa, I wish this were an easier situation to be in. You are not the only mother here.”

“And where are your daughters now?”

“One, presumably, left behind by the Princess. I did not see them together,” said Lady Nikala. When Urbosa nodded, she continued. “The other evaded arrest by crown soldiers and disappeared from Hateno Village. Reports say she and her… lab partner… caused quite a ruckus with unfamiliar weapons and simply vanished. Purah has always been intelligent and stubborn to a fault. I trust she is doing her part for Hyrule.”

Urbosa sighed. “You will forever be expecting your family to do that and nothing else.”

“I have no quarrel with you. We are allies,” said Lady Nikala. “You and I both serve our families… in our own way. Can we not leave it at that?”

“For the sake of everyone, I will,” said Urbosa. 

“Good. Because the Goron and Zora representatives will be here soon, and I need to give them the same warning,” said Lady Nikala, turning to leave. 

“Wait—what about the Rito?”

Lady Nikala actually  _ shrugged.  _ “I have no idea who they’re sending. In all honesty, I hope they send a warrior and not a diplomat like they have in the past. We might have more need of the former, despite how proud Rito warriors tend to be.”

With that, she left, disappearing into the shadows without a trace. If nothing else, Urbosa envied her stealth. 

The conversation had fostered… many thoughts, most of which were unpleasant. Urbosa chose to focus on an instinct at the back of her mind which refused to fade: concerning Impa. 

_ “I trust she is doing her part for Hyrule.” _

Nikala had been the queen’s guard just as Impa was for Zelda, and Urbosa knew that no law could stand between a Hylian princess and her Sheikah guard. It was a traditional bond literally older than Hyrule itself. 

So… why had Impa simply taken Urbosa’s order to stay? 

_ She didn’t,  _ Urbosa realized, resisting the urge to smack herself in the forehead.  _ There’s no way she did. And I wouldn’t have noticed a determined Sheikah sneaking along, now would I have? She’s here somewhere.  _

With that in mind, Urbosa set about making plans. Rhoam would want to speak with her, she’d need backup, she’d need more information… oh, but  _ after  _ that… 

A slight smile curled over Urbosa’s face. She had a rebellious side—a rarely-shown one, but still. A good old-fashioned coup was something she’d hoped to never see in person but always considered a fantastic dream. 

Now? 

Now, it was a  _ very _ real possibility. 

She just had to survive a political meeting in a time of crisis first, which would be  _ lovely.  _

Urbosa quite liked Daruk. He was the right mix of serious and jovial, a kind and proud leader—if somewhat goofy. She could respect a vae who knew how to live and lead in equal amounts. 

She also liked Mipha, a sweet-yet-steely princess with a bright future for her people… even if she kept being Zelda’s partner in crime. In fairness, the fact that she got away with it was good news. 

Urbosa liked the Rito delegate significantly less. 

“Master Revali, was it-?”

“Do I look DEAD to you, Sheikah? It’s  _ Warrior  _ Revali, thanks.”

If nothing else, what Urbosa knew of Revali’s culture told her that he was qualified for the role. She took little solace in that. 

“I was merely going to ask why your Elder sent  _ you  _ in particular,” said Lady Nikala, typically unruffled despite the rudeness. “Now that question is… slightly more pressing.”

Revali eyed her suspiciously. “I’m our highest-ranking warrior. Why shouldn’t I have come? Besides, our usual envoys are a little  _ busy _ keeping peace with panicked Hylians on our borders trying to go see a Great Fairy who won’t come out. The crown hasn’t been much help with  _ that,  _ by the way…”

Urbosa revised her first impression. He was rude and cocky, yes, but Revali clearly held about as much love for Rhoam as  _ she  _ did. He would hardly be an obstacle if things came down to a battle. 

“The crown summoned you all here to deal with  _ that,” _ said Lady Nikala smoothly. It wasn’t a complete lie. 

“The letter the Zora received said something different,” interjected Mipha. “I was told that this may become a matter of civil war within the Hylians’ borders.”

Urbosa’s letter had said much the same thing, on the grounds that Zelda had “traitorous supporters” and “clear plans of rebellion”. Mipha didn’t seem to believe it. 

“I didn’t understand that. The princess seemed like she was just doing her job when she came to Death Mountain,” said Daruk. “Asked about Dinraal, asked if we needed aid—that doesn’t sound very traitorous to me.”

“It is if her father intends to  _ withhold _ aid,” said Urbosa. “The Gerudo have received nothing but a diplomatic visit.”

“I don’t know why you’re surprised,” said Revali archly. “We can’t give up our soldiers to throw at this problem, so why would the crown be interested in helping?”

Before he could continue, Lady Nikala subtly jerked her head towards the door and stared straight ahead from her spot by the throne. Rhoam, it seemed, had chosen to be fashionably late. 

_ Lovely, as expected.  _

Urbosa inclined her head briefly once the man himself entered, a gesture mirrored by Daruk and Mipha. Revali just stood there with his wings crossed, openly glaring. If he was going to be  _ this  _ confrontational the entire time… 

Urbosa spent much of the meeting sending furtive side-eyes to Lady Nikala. It began when Rhoam spent a good six minutes going on about Zelda’s “betrayal” via abandonment of her post and “involvement with unknown forces” and didn’t end until Revali derailed the conversation unprompted. 

“Sorry, but what are you planning to do about the  _ actual  _ problem? Your little family feud can wait, Hyrule without spirit magic can’t,” he said, not sounding sorry in the slightest. Urbosa caught the dark look in Rhoam’s eye before it disappeared under false politeness and hoped that Lady Nikala had a plan in place for any… attempted assassinations against diplomats.

“That is why I have summoned you all here,” said Rhoam stiffly, and Urbosa dared to hope he might give them even a  _ hint  _ as to what could be done. 

She was, unfortunately, wrong. It didn’t come as much of a surprise when Rhoam proceeded to treat the remaining time as if it were a preamble to whatever else he had planned—empty words designed for nothing but padding and anticipation. He dismissed them all rather abruptly afterwards, citing “private matters” and disappearing. 

_ That could have been worse. Technically.  _

The thought wasn’t overly comforting, but at least it was something. 

“Lady Urbosa!”

A quick scan revealed the diminutive figure of Mipha, waving to get Urbosa to glance down at her level as she hurried closer. Urbosa slowed her pace so that Mipha could catch up, angling for the palace gardens to walk and talk (there wasn’t much in the way of surveillance out there, as her love had taught her so long ago). Nothing was said until they reached said gardens—Mipha, it seemed, knew how to read a room. 

“That was a disaster,” said Mipha, her demure voice clashing with the flat words. “I almost thought some kind of prankster sent that missive, but Father said it would be best to listen just in case… Goddesses, has that man  _ lost _ it?”

“Careful,” said Urbosa lowly. “I believe you’re right, but it is unwise to be so loud about it.”

“Right. I’ll let Revali handle that part,” said Mipha with a chuckle. It faded a moment later, as did any cheerfulness she had left. “Urbosa… you were the last to see Zelda, right?”

“She is safe, as far as I know,” said Urbosa. “She left in the company of a famously powerful spirit-”

Mipha gasped sharply, one clawed hand flying to her mouth in shock. “She  _ found them?  _ Of  _ course  _ she did, oh my-”

Urbosa squinted at her panicking companion. “Mipha? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! This is just—oh, it’s probably partially my fault she just ran off and got accused of high treason. I gave her a lead on the spirit of the wilds since they blessed me,” said Mipha, taking a deep breath. “Did she at least  _ say  _ anything about it?”

Urbosa explained briefly the situation surrounding Zelda’s departure, keeping a wary eye on the foliage around them both. 

“...and now they’re traveling together. I think they must have stopped in Hateno Village, and they were definitely in Kakariko, but I don’t know where they are now,” finished Urbosa. “You’re blessed?”

Mipha nodded. “It was a long time ago, but it’s provided an immense boost to my abilities. I just… I don’t know, I learned faster. Got luckier. But my powers have been a little…  _ finicky,  _ recently. I don’t know how to describe it.”

Urbosa frowned, deep in thought. Tera’s blessing had been on a few of her own things—which had faded and fallen apart not long ago. She had put this down to Tera’s predicament, but wasn’t Link free…?

_ Unless he’s fading anyway. Something must have happened to lessen his power.  _

“We just don’t know enough about what’s going on,” she said bitterly. “I don’t like that. We-”

Suddenly, Urbosa stopped. Something had caught her attention from the bushes—a faint rustle, like a chipmunk had scurried away. 

“Something wrong?” Mipha followed Urbosa’s line of sight, frowning when nothing appeared from the foliage. “I don’t—AH-!”

Urbosa lunged and snatched the collar of their stalker, disregarding Mipha’s yelp as she yanked the offending figure into the air with one hand. She wished fervently for her scimitar—left upstairs to prevent a diplomatic incident—as sharp nails clutched at her forearm. 

“Wait, it’s just me!” cried the stalker, yanking back her hood. 

Mipha openly gaped, subtly sheathing a wickedly-sharp diving knife under her sash (when had she even drawn it?). Urbosa held Impa at the same height regardless, leveling a stern glare at her.

“You know, I figured you were here, but I half-hoped you’d prove me wrong and actually follow orders,” said Urbosa dryly. 

Impa gave her a sheepish grin. “Did you really expect that?”

“No. No, I did not.”

“Impa! You risked a lot to come here,” Mipha observed as Urbosa set her captive down safely. “Your life, your freedom…”

“I already lost my freedom,” said Impa, her face sobering. “It doesn’t matter to me as much as the—as much as Zelda matters to me. I could  _ never _ leave her out to dry like that.”

Urbosa found herself eerily reminded of Lady Nikala. 

“Plus,” said Impa, the tiniest smile tugging at the edge of her lips, “I hear my big sister caused some problems. If she’s not on her way or already here, I’ll eat my hat—and  _ someone  _ has to chew her out for taking such risks.”

_ Never mind,  _ Urbosa thought.  _ Impa is different, if just as dedicated. I wonder what the exact split was to cause such a difference…  _

— 

_ “Impa, this is a matter of utmost importance.” _

_ “I know, Mother.” _

_ “I trust you to fulfill this duty for the remainder of your life.” _

_ “Thank you, Mother.” _

_ “Are you ready?” _

_ “Yes.” _

_ “Good.” _

_ Impa stood still while her mother adjusted her collar, knowing that wriggling would only earn a stern look and prolonged fussing. She liked the typical Sheikah robes—they were comfortable, at least—but the more formal version was constricting. Hyrule Castle was stuffy, too, not like the serenity of Kakariko or even the chaos of Purah’s makeshift labs.  _

_ Purah would have been in Impa’s position if she weren’t so rebellious. Impa, being seven, didn’t think about it too critically. She loved her big sister, admired her ability to dodge their mother. _

_ Impa never developed that sense of freedom.  _

_ She did  _ want  _ to. But—unlike Purah—Impa had no desire to go against their mother in everything. That was pointless, as the semi-official heir of the Sheikah. If she wanted a sense of freedom, it would have to be for a very good reason.  _

_ “There.” Nikala straightened, satisfied with her efforts. “The queen and princess await. Remember to be respectful.” _

_ Impa nodded sharply the way her mother had taught her and followed on silent footsteps, watching the Hylian guards she passed by with vague interest. Their gazes flicked to the odd sight of a Sheikah child only momentarily before moving on. The presence of Lady Nikala was not strange, but Lady Nikala with a child? A rare sight, assuming that child wasn’t the princess.  _

_ Impa wasn’t sure how to feel about the princess. All she knew was that the princess was important to Hyrule, that Impa had been tied to her basically since birth out of tradition, and that Impa was three years older than her. Impa had never even  _ seen _ the princess before.  _

_ “Ah, Nikala, good morning! Was your journey uneventful?” _

_ “Quite so, Majesty,” said Impa’s mother smoothly, stepping into the study and beckoning Impa forward redundantly. “My daughter has only briefly left Kakariko before, so I am sure she was more moved than I.” _

_ “Oh, that’s right, we haven’t been properly introduced.” _

_ Royal-blue cloth suddenly shifted in front of Impa’s face as the queen stepped around to stand before her. One blur of blue and gold and red later, and the queen of Hyrule herself was crouching in front of Impa, smile lines around her eyes and gentleness in her expression.  _

_ For a moment, she was awestruck. Then her mother’s gaze pricked her awareness.  _

_ “Your Majesty,” said Impa seriously, dropping into a bow low enough for her forehead to nearly touch the floor. The queen made an odd noise—a chuckle? _

_ “Rise, please,” she said lightly. Impa obeyed, folding her arms behind her back the way her mother had taught her as she did. “Your name?” _

_ “Impa, Your Majesty.” _

_ “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Impa,” said the queen, the smile lines never leaving her face. “I’m sure you don’t want to listen to the grownups talk. My daughter—oh, Rhoam, there you are! I was beginning to wonder.” _

_ “It was a struggle for her to wear her circlet properly,” said a deep voice from the doorway. Impa twisted to see who it was and dropped into another bow, much deeper than the one her mother used to greet the oncoming king of Hyrule.  _

_ “It’s uncomfortable, Papa,” said a very small voice from behind the king. Impa glanced up from her bow to see a tiny Hylian girl clinging to the king’s leg and watching the queen with bright green eyes. “It pinches while I put it on.” _

_ “Such is the price of royalty,” said the king sagely. To the queen, he said, “are we to speak of the future as planned, then? The Zora ambassador awaits.” _

_ “Of course. The girls should get a chance to get to know each other while we do,” said the queen, rising to her full height in a businesslike manner. Impa found herself bundled through Hyrule Castle again and deposited with the princess in a secluded part of the library under the watchful eye of the attendants and guards there. The queen and king disappeared with Impa’s mother to meet the Zora ambassador without fanfare—leaving Impa with the princess.  _

_ The princess, who had already snagged a brightly-illustrated book in Hylian script from somewhere and settled at a wide table with it. She glanced at Impa and hurriedly looked down when they accidentally made eye contact. Impa, figuring the princess didn’t want to speak, found her own spot across the table and tried to think of ways to occupy herself. She settled for a now-instinctual habit: scanning people. Specifically, the princess.  _

_ Princess Zelda had fluffy blond hair which looked like it had been hastily combed to lay properly over her shoulders, crowned by a circlet with a red gem of some kind in the center. Her sleeves got caught on the edge of the table every time she turned a page, like she wasn’t used to them dangling so much. She chewed idly on one lip while her eyes darted across the pages of her book. Her movement was awkward when she changed pages, since she did it with one hand- _

_ One hand? _

_ Impa quickly bent under the table and caught a glimpse of something glowing blue in the princess’ lap before said princess caught on and hid it in her fist.  _

_ “What was that?” asked Impa, straightening again and keeping her voice low so as not to alert the attendants who were doing their jobs not far away. She forgot to tack a title onto the end of her sentence, but the princess didn’t seem concerned with  _ that  _ part.  _

_ “Um-” The princess’ eyes flicked to the attendants. “What was what?” _

_ “The blue thing, Princess.” _

_ “My… dress?” the princess lied poorly. She caught Impa’s frown and relented, looking a little panicked. “Don’t tell Papa or your mama and I’ll tell you.” _

_ Impa blinked. She had never kept things from her mother, besides some of Purah’s antics.  _

But I’m supposed to be her friend,  _ she realized, watching the princess’ big eyes waver as the seconds passed.  _ For forever. I should be nice. 

_ “Okay, Princess,” she said resolutely, which made the princess sigh in relief.  _

_ “Okay, come here quick.” _

_ Impa pushed herself off of the bench and darted around to sit beside the princess, sitting just close enough to hide behind the large book but not close enough to touch.  _

_ “Never get that close to the princess,” her mother had said once. “Uphold your duty professionally. We are guardians first and companions second.” _

_ But weren’t companions better guardians? _

_ “I found this in Mama’s study,” whispered the princess, holding out her closed fist to Impa and letting it open like a flower. Within, an odd-looking screw lay nestled, highlighted along its edges by faintly glowing lines of blue. Impa found herself briefly dazzled by the light—and how the princess’ entire demeanor changed from shy to excitable in the blink of an eye.  _

_ “What does it do, Princess?” Impa asked, curious.  _

_ “I have no idea,” said the princess with a fearsome look in her eye. She looked like Purah, almost—but Purah had never needed outside approval to make that face over tech. “I’m studying it. It might be a part to some kind of-” _

_ She suddenly froze and avoided eye contact, bundling the screw away into her skirts. “Sorry. I know I talk a lot about science.” _

_ “But it’s cool,” said Impa despite herself. It was her job to reassure the princess, right? Besides, she wanted to. “Er, I mean—Princess.”  _

_ “Why do you say that?” _

_ “My sister is going to be a scientist.” _

_ A hint of the glimmer from before lit up the princess’ eyes again. “She is? Can I meet her?” _

_ Impa hesitated again. “I don’t know. She doesn’t leave Kakariko very often, Princess.” _

_ “Oh. Well… maybe I can go there,” said the princess. She fixed Impa with a surprisingly sharp look—though it was curiosity, not reproach, unlike the looks Impa usually got. “You’re different.” _

_ “Pardon, Princess?” _

_ “Lady Nikala and my mama are always together,” said the princess after a moment. “They talk, but my mama is the only one who laughs. I don’t think they’re friends, really. The Lady is just loyal and doing her job like Papa says I’m supposed to.” _

_ Impa knew that was true, but she didn’t want to say it out loud. The princess continued in a quiet voice, not noticing Impa’s pause. _

_ “You’re supposed to do Lady Nikala’s job for me when we’re both older, right? Mama said so. I thought you’d just be like your mama.” _

_ Impa flushed, a little embarrassed. “She’s a lot of things that I’m not grown-up enough to be.” _

_ “No, I mean…” the princess bit her lip, fiddling with the screw. “Lady Nikala wouldn’t talk about her family with my mama, or talk about the spirits. You only just met me and I know you have a sister who likes science like me. You actually talk with me.” _

_ “I’m not supposed to, Princess,” said Impa impulsively. She almost said a curse word she wasn’t supposed to know when the princess wilted a little. “I mean… my sister does a lot of things she’s not supposed to. I always go by the rules. Maybe… this doesn’t count as breaking them.” _

_ The princess blinked. “What do you mean?” _

_ “I’m supposed to be your guard. Can I be your friend, too?” asked Impa. “No offense, Princess, but you kind of sound like you want one.” _

_ “I don’t really have those.” _

_ Impa couldn’t imagine not having Purah.  _

_ “You can have one now,” she offered. “Two, even. My sister would love you.” _

_ The princess, it seemed, didn’t really absorb that for a second. Then she beamed like the sun—an expression Impa almost thought she couldn’t make. “Thank you! Thank you so much!” _

_ Impa decided then and there that her “duty” of guarding the princess included the princess’ feelings. She’d do anything to make sure the little girl across from her stayed happy and healthy.  _

— 

Impa had found it surprisingly easy to stow away with Urbosa’s traveling party. Even if it hadn’t been—even if she had to  _ run  _ all the way to Hyrule Castle—Impa wouldn’t have gone back for anything. 

Not when seeing Zelda leave once had already cut her to the bone. 

The princess was far more than her charge. That was her  _ sister.  _ And Impa’s presence, for the first time, was more of a danger than a help.  _ Curse  _ whatever foul demon or god had dared cause this. Had Impa been like Link, she was sure that things would have started breaking around her from the force of her frustration. 

So it was understandable that she got a little  _ heated  _ when Urbosa smuggled her back inside and got intercepted by none other than Nikala, bearing news that Zelda had been  _ inside the castle  _ less than ten minutes before with Link. 

“You’re kidding.  _ You’re kidding.  _ I’ve been sneaking through the gardens like a scared ‘blin and she was  _ right here!”  _ Impa spat, barely caring that she was metaphorically breathing fire in front of two world leaders and her own mother—the latter of whom wasn’t even  _ surprised  _ at her presence, of course. “Did you even-”

“Hold your tongue, we can’t speak quite  _ that  _ freely,” said Impa’s mother sharply, holding up a single hand to stem the tide of irate words. Impa snapped her mouth shut with an audible  _ click. _ “We shouldn’t make any plans or share any more information until we’re secure and all in one place. You know this.”

She  _ did  _ know that. 

“It has recently come to my attention that there are parts of this castle few living souls know about. I’ve found one that should serve our purposes nicely,” said Nikala in her classic businesslike manner. “If you three will follow me and learn the way, I doubt the king is expecting any of you to show your faces. We have some time to consolidate our information.”

Impa swallowed and let herself simmer, following her mother through the shadows. Like some kind of madwoman, Lady Nikala had managed to rope every race’s representative into the scheme—though Impa suspected they might all have simply ended up at the same conclusion on their own. Urbosa certainly seemed ready to treat the king’s actions as potential threats to her nation (which they likely were) from the get-go. 

Impa waited in the shadows when her mother escorted them all to some hidden room and disappeared again, knowing that was what was expected of her. The easy banter which Urbosa had established with her was gone in the wake of Lady Nikala’s relentless professionalism.

“There’s a lot of maps here… we could probably use these,” said Mipha after a moment, scanning the secret room closely. Her eyes reflected the dim light in eerie green circles if Impa looked directly at them—just a side effect of Zora physiology, yes, but a slightly creepy one. “Goddess, what are we even doing? Plotting against King Rhoam in his own castle? This is a political  _ nightmare.” _

“All nightmares end,” said Urbosa sagely. “Sometimes by force. Did you notice that he never told us when these  _ planning sessions  _ would end? And that the castle has been under heavier guard than usual? Those are not the preparations of peace.”

Mipha frowned. “I’m not blind. I noticed. I’d just rather not get into a conflict when we still don’t know what’s causing this.”

“The spirits are fundamental pillars of Hyrule. The fact that Zelda was pounced upon so quickly and extremely for trying to help them is a sign that the king has  _ something  _ to do with this,” said Urbosa.

“I…” Mipha hesitated. “Ugh. Sometimes I wish I weren’t crown princess… I can’t declare war, Urbosa. I don’t have that authority.”

“I know Zora law. If there is a direct threat to your people’s wellbeing and you are in a position to nullify that threat, you have the authority to do as you see fit,” Urbosa pointed out. “I’m not saying war. Why start a war when we’re in the dragon’s den? Rhoam, as I see it, is unfit for his duty—and in the face of a potential doomsday event should Hyrule’s guardians fall, a leader who fails to protect us should be removed.” 

“A  _ coup?”  _ Mipha pinched the space between her eyes like she was staving off a headache. “I… won’t deny that I’d prefer Zelda on the throne. She’s better suited to actually listening to allies and citizens. I also won’t deny that the possibility of such an action crossed my mind.”

Urbosa waited, letting Mipha worry over it on her own time. Impa chose not to say anything—she was on Zelda’s side alone. Unlike Urbosa, who had multiple reasons to choose such an action, Impa had no citizens to look after or political standing to worry about. Her decisions were freer than either of the people in the room with her. 

Ironically.

“We aren’t safe doing this,” said Mipha. “At the same time, we’re  _ very  _ not safe without the spirits. Anything that can lay the  _ dragons  _ low, we are no match for. You… are right, Urbosa. We need to work together.”

“Glad to see you’ve come to the same understanding. We are  _ definitely  _ not a match for this, not if I’m correct about the perpetrator.”

Impa realized belatedly that she’d forgotten to warn Urbosa and Mipha of her mother’s approach when they both jumped. Mipha’s hand went straight for her sash and the knife hidden there before Nikala stepped into the room—and even after recognizing her, Mipha didn’t quite relax. Impa could respect that. 

“Now will you  _ deign  _ to tell me what’s going on in better detail? I like to know when my life is in danger and what to shoot to make that stop.”

Inwardly, Impa sighed. Urbosa did the same thing aloud. 

Revali entered the room with a sharp look in his eye and ruffled feathers around his neck. He looked no different than he had during Zelda’s visit—which felt like  _ years  _ ago—save for the lack of his bow. As he walked he occasionally twitched a wing towards his back as if missing said bow dearly, especially when he got a good look at Urbosa’s stormy expression. 

“Don’t get snippy with her, Warrior. She might not tell us if she’s ticked.” There was Daruk, levelheaded despite his clear confusion. Impa appreciated his easygoing attitude. Revali seemed placated by the correct use of his title and stopped eyeing everyone so suspiciously, choosing instead to step to one side and fix Nikala with a look that clearly meant “explain”. 

“I’ll put this bluntly. How do the two of you feel about staging a coup?” said Urbosa. Nikala’s mouth tightened, but she didn’t look like Urbosa had said something wrong—no, that was the face of someone whose line had been stolen. 

“What, overthrow the Hylian king?” said Revali, recovering quickly from his evident shock. He thought for a moment, his emerald-green eyes glinting in the low light as he continued to squint—was that just poor vision and not suspicion? Impa held back a snort. “I’m in.”

“That was fast,” noted Nikala.

“What’s that face? Do you think I was already  _ planning  _ anything of the sort? Of course not,” scoffed Revali. “It’s no secret that the Rito don’t appreciate a monarchy like Hyrule’s dictating what we do.  _ I’m in. _ Rito Village is safer without a man who refuses to act in the face of losing the spirits on the throne.”

_ That was easy.  _ Revali was rough around the edges, sure, but he and Impa seemed to have one thing in common: protecting their family. She could hardly blame him for being abrasive when his home was in danger. 

“But-”

_ Ah, nevermind. _

“The princess,” said Revali simply, raising an eyebrow. “Is she cut out for this? Is she even coming  _ back?” _

“She didn’t tell me where she was going, only that she had to get out of the castle as soon as possible,” said Nikala, bristling just slightly. Impa stopped herself from drawing a kunai in her mother’s defense—she didn’t want Rito talons buried in her chest if Revali defended himself. 

“Right. And you just  _ know  _ whatever she’s doing is helpful because…?”

“Because our adversaries tried very hard to kill her before she could get it done.”

Impa stiffened, propriety forgotten.  _ “What?  _ They found her anyway?”

_ “That _ discussion can continue in a moment,” said Nikala sharply, sending Impa a look that made her back down instantly. “Lord Daruk?”

Daruk, who had been watching Revali speak the way someone eyes a far-off monster camp, sighed. “I hate to get drastic, but I’ve already thought about it. The Gorons come first.” 

“Good,” said Nikala with a businesslike nod. “Impa.”

“Yes?” Impa saw Urbosa’s brow tighten, but wasn’t totally sure why. All she’d done was come to attention when her mother spoke. 

“Reconnaissance. I need to know who’s going in and out of this castle and what’s being said.”

Impa knew better than to stay and argue. She left quickly, though not before hearing Mipha say “but shouldn’t she be here?” 

Nikala trusted her to be responsible, but lately… maybe not so much. Impa wasn’t sure how to feel about that as she navigated the spidery passageway and made it into the public hallways of Hyrule Castle. From there, it was a relatively simple matter to climb a pillar and simply balance on narrow ledges along the ceiling as she traveled. The very first thing any self-respecting Sheikah parent taught their aspiring ninja was very simple: no one ever looks up. 

And even with the castle now on high alert, the patrolling guards and various nobles proved that sentiment true. 

“What was that whole uproar about? I was ready to go on leave!”

“Apparently someone spotted a couple of intruders and sounded the alarm, but I’m pretty sure they’ve gotten away by now. What a waste of time—even if it  _ was  _ the princess and whoever she disappeared with-”

_ “What?  _ You can’t seriously believe the order is legitimate! If it  _ is _ her, I’m not chasing-”

“It’s not our job to focus on royal family drama, pal, it’s our job to keep everybody here safe! Stay sharp.”

Impa avoided the emptier parts of the castle, where she was unlikely to gather anything good. Instead, the kitchens were her next target—hubs of information. She was able to make it into the rafters and carefully spied from there, making sure to stay perfectly silent (not that she could be heard over the hubbub).

“-make  _ rock roasts,  _ of all things! I’m not equipped for that! Good thing the Gorons usually bring their own food, but if I’m seriously being asked to do that, then we’re all in trouble-”

“-heard the outer parts of the castle are in lockdown over some mystery intruder. Might even be the princess! I hope the poor dear is okay, she’s always so polite.”

“D’you think that Hateno business is gonna come this way? I’ve heard they got out on some horses that attacked the soldiers like wild beasts and booked it in our direction!”

_ “Horses?  _ You don’t think… the spirit of-!”

“That spirit’s dead, y’ moron. They all are an’ we’re next!”

Impa winced as part of the crowd went dead silent around the kitchen maid who had spoken. Nikala had said Link was alive and with Zelda, but that he hadn’t looked healthy—she wouldn’t put it past the general populace to assume a reclusive spirit like that was just  _ gone.  _

“Don’t talk like that,” hissed a voice from the crowd. 

“We’ve been abandoned. Wake up!” the maid in question snapped right back, her round face reddening. “Firs’ our guardians, then the king—it’s every normal person f’ themselves.”

“Hold your tongue before you cause a riot!” 

Impa eyed the owner of the new voice—a severe-looking elderly woman with a child clinging to her skirts—with something akin to respect. 

“It does us no good to panic,” the elderly woman continued. “Your yapping will only make things worse. Get back to your chores and stop riling people up.”

Her words had the intended effect. Impa watched the tension diffuse from the crowd, leaving the original maid grumbling but quiet about it. Still… nothing good ever came from unrest simmering so close to the surface.  _ Rhoam  _ not having support was good news. Zelda not having support? Potentially disastrous. Impa didn’t know what a revolt would look like if neither member of the royal family had enough people behind them to rule. Bloody, surely. 

_ We have some fancy talking to do. Should I spread any helpful rumors…? No, not without Mother’s input first.  _

It didn’t sit right with Impa, leaving Zelda’s fate partially in Nikala’s hands. Not that she mistrusted her mother—but that had been  _ Impa’s  _ job for years. Nikala hadn’t been personally involved for a large chunk of that time, too focused on serving as Rhoam’s part-time bodyguard and Kakariko’s leader after the queen’s death. 

Would Nikala have made the same decision, back there in the desert? Would she have admitted failure and entrusted her charge to a spirit, or would she have stayed in Gerudo Town and never let Zelda leave her sight? 

_ She wouldn’t have gotten trapped by the Yiga in the first place. She would have found a way to block her signature early, instead of getting foiled by arts that she learned from the cradle.  _

Impa was  _ not  _ upset. Not in the slightest. 

She just wished she could have helped more. 

The rest of the castle had little of value to overhear. Impa skipped around unseen so easily that she despaired at the thought of  _ these  _ guards being responsible for the castle’s safety—only the knowledge that very few people could have seen her anyway kept some of that despair at bay. 

Only  _ some,  _ of course. She would ream into the captain of the guard if she survived the coming bloodshed. 

Impa’s reconnaissance was accepted with little fanfare by her mother, but that was typical. No doubt Nikala already knew  _ precisely  _ what sort of rumors were flying. It was unlikely she had genuinely expected anything new. Impa doubted that anything at all about their situation would surprise her mother, even as the next day stretched out impossibly long with an unspoken tension in the still air. 

The four representatives had to be seen keeping unsuspicious schedules, and Nikala had to stay by the king (though he often ordered her to leave for arbitrary reasons, which Nikala said was a blessing in disguise for her plans). Impa, however? Impa could wander where she pleased, provided no one saw her. As far as the castle was concerned, the princess’ bodyguard had disappeared and/or never left Gerudo Town—Impa was free to be Hyrule Castle’s very own ghost. 

She explored the catacombs that she had spent so much childhood playtime in with Zelda, making sure to map them on paper for everyone else’s sake. It was painful, just  _ handing  _ those maps to her mother—especially when Nikala saw the one that led to the room where the queen had lay dying so many years ago and stiffened, hardness entering her gaze—but it had to be done. Nothing was said of what had happened that night, but Impa felt the disapproval right to her bones. 

She thought of how few their allies were at least once every hour. Impa was no fool—it would take more than six organizers and a few extra supporters to hold Hyrule Castle if enough soldiers and citizens decided they wanted Rhoam around. They needed backup, and  _ badly.  _ But who could it possibly come from?

As if Impa had summoned her, the answer to that question entered the castle with a bang, a wild-cucco chase, and an accomplice that very evening. 

“We’re under attack!”

“INTRUDERS!”

_ “Again? _

“Close the gates! Unit three to the south end-”

Impa watched people run by and shout and panic with increasing alarm, glad once more for her safe perch in the rafters of the dining hall. The Yiga wouldn’t be so brash, would they? No, every palace guard was reacting—and plenty of  _ them  _ were securely under Rhoam’s control. They wouldn’t be panicking. 

_ Something else—but what? _

The dining hall was clear before Impa could do very much as people ran for guard posts or safer rooms, save for Daruk waving her down urgently. How he managed to blend into crowds and backgrounds so effectively at that size was a mystery to Impa—his sheer level of jovial energy?—but it had the benefit of no one sticking around to question his inaction _.  _

“This isn’t us, right?” said Daruk worriedly, glancing out of the wide windows as if he’d see Revali raining arrows from the skies or Urbosa’s lightning brewing. “Unless your mother pulled something without letting the rest know.”

Impa dropped from the rafters, landing on Daruk’s outstretched hand and vaulting from there to the ground without skipping a beat. “Nope. It’s not  _ them,  _ either, and I don’t like that—who could  _ possibly  _ be crazy enough to try and breach Hyrule Castle in broad daylight?”

“An outside force? It’s not like there’s an army on the doorstep, and our neighbors are pretty friendly.”

“That’s just it, I-” Impa stopped mid-sentence, letting her jaw hang open. “Oh, in the name of  _ all  _ that is  _ holy,  _ that  _ idiot-” _

“Eh—pardon?” 

“You want to know who has the audacity, the brains, and the ordinance to pull something like this, Lord Daruk?” said Impa, dragging a hand down her face. “It could only be-”

“Impa! Get into the tunnels  _ now.”  _ As if thinking about family had summoned her, Nikala burst into the dining hall, acknowledging Daruk with a quick nod. “We can’t risk a full-on prison break, so find and intercept those two. Take the west wing. I’m in the east.”

“So I was right-?”

_ “Now,  _ Impa!”

Impa started running. Hopefully her resemblance to her mother would make most people assume that they just saw Lady Nikala sprinting by, because the  _ last  _ thing on Impa’s mind was stealth. 

_ I love my sister, but I wish she didn’t need me to bail her out of things so often-! _

The sounds of shouting and rapid footsteps—and, much more concerning,  _ cucco sounds  _ of all things—led Impa straight to the west wing of the castle, which was in an amount of chaos normally reserved for another one of Zelda’s experiments going awry. Really, though,  _ that _ example wasn’t far off. 

A small squad of cuccos screeched about the hall, scaring maids, chasing nobles, and generally making a nuisance of themselves. Impa dove behind an oversized potted plant to survey further (the murderous birds would ignore her, hopefully) and scanned for the source—ah, a tipped-over cart. What was a delivery cart doing in the middle of the west wing?

Sudden tiny explosions started up, and Impa instantly recognized the sound of Sheikah fireworks. Brilliant sparks flew across the high ceilings, sending even more people into a tizzy and giving the guards little choice except to calm people down. Impa kept her eyes on the panicking crowd, scanning for-

_ There. Goddess, they’re both  _ hopeless _ at sneaking.  _

It was a good thing Robbie and Purah both had the muscle mass of the average teenager. Impa was able to easily grab them by their collars as she sprinted by, dragging both would-be infiltrators (seriously, the improvised “disguises” made of hats and drawn-on facial hair did nothing) into a side hall as if they were fleeing the mad cuccos. From there, shoving her passengers through a gaudy tapestry and into Hyrule Castle’s secret passageways was easy. 

Easy-ish, that is. Robbie actually managed to punch her in the face with something that stung worse than  _ anything  _ once she let go.

“Robbie, you maniac, that’s my sister!”

“And? I feel like I’m entitled to a  _ little  _ punching of people after the week we’ve had.”

“You’re just mad because you got the crazy horse that Zelda left behind.”

“He  _ bit  _ me!”

“That doesn’t mean you get to punch my sister!”

“Look at it this way. Your electric knuckles work.”

“I—yes, good point. So do the portable flash-bombs!” 

Impa decided to stay on the ground for a few seconds longer than she needed to. It was nice to hear people just banter  _ normally  _ instead of stilted, political conversations or tense chats about treason. 

...also, her nose hurt. A lot. 

“What do you mean by “crazy horse”, Robbie?” said Impa eventually, deciding that she would rather get answers than listen to the inevitable flow of science jargon that came from the pair speaking for longer than a minute.

Robbie leapt a solid foot into the air, looking not unlike a startled cat. “Impa! Ah—I thought I knocked you out. Must need to calibrate this thing. Good to know—oof!”

Purah cut him off with a sharp elbow to the ribcage and slammed into Impa, hugging her with all the fierceness of the warrior she almost was and sniffling. “I missed you so _much,_ baby sis, but you scared the _life_ out of me just now!”

Impa hugged her back, resolutely  _ not  _ crying. “And I missed you, up until your partner punched me in the face.”

“I know what bodyguard training is like, you’ve seen worse,” blustered Robbie. “Now—eh—what’s going on, exactly? Where are we? I’ve never seen this passage anywhere.” 

Impa let Purah tug her upwards and check her over before speaking. “This is a secret passage—one of many in Hyrule Castle. We’re starting a coup. I  _ know _ you two, you’re on board. We’re waiting on Zelda to return with a proper plan, but until then, the improvisation is to get Rhoam off of the throne and someone competent making decisions. He’s either under enemy control or enemy influence, by the way. Lady Urbosa, Lord Daruk, Princess Mipha, Warrior Revali of the Rito, and every Sheikah in the castle are in on it. Any questions? We should start moving first.”

Purah and Robbie glanced at each other and shared a silent mini-conversation full of raised eyebrows and contorted expressions. Impa tugged them both along the passageway, letting them get it all out.

“Where’s Zelda?” demanded Purah, picking up speed to come around and block Impa’s path. “She came by the lab with a nasty arm wound and her new bestie in tow, passing out on my floor and-”

_ “What?” _

“She’s fine! I think. She woke up in the end. It was a nasty shock, hearing about the traitor thing, plus she was—cursed, I think? Listen, the past week is a blur.” 

Impa swallowed. She hadn’t considered that Zelda would have to hear _that_ all alone—it had been bad enough on her own end. If an order like that had come down on Impa’s head from Nikala?

Well. It was  _ Nikala.  _ It would probably be for good reason. 

“Link had to do… something, with his magic. He called it a blessing,” Purah explained further, “but it didn’t seem like a blessing to me. He looked dead on his feet when they left.”

“Wait, left  _ how?”  _ said Impa, frowning. “Here, hang a right—they showed up  _ in the castle,  _ Purah,  _ way  _ too fast to have left even on horseback! What did you two give them?”

Robbie choked. “WHAT? The medallion malfunctioned? My baby  _ malfunctioned?  _ They were supposed to end up near the Lost Woods, not here!”

Impa turned and shot him a withering glare, then gave one to Purah for good measure. “Let me get this straight. In the middle of a nationwide crisis, where Zelda and the spirits are our  _ only hopes,  _ you two decided that an experimental piece of ancient tech should be trusted with their lives.”

“There were crown soldiers beating down our door,” said Purah hotly. “If those two hadn’t taken the medallion, they would have been dead or captured. You didn’t see how pale Link got after that weird blessing, Impa. He… he never would have been able to get her out of there. Zelda herself was more than a little woozy. I wouldn’t be surprised if one or both of them passed out on arrival.”

“That was a bad time,” said Robbie. “I did manage to nail some soldiers while we escaped the on-foot way, though!  _ That  _ was fun.”

“Right, so Link and Zelda took an artifact, but how did you two get here so fast?”

Purah started cackling as Robbie made a long-suffering groan. 

“Laughing is a bad sign from you two.”

“Link and Zelda had horses with them,” said Purah, still giggling, “as you’d expect from the spirit of the wilds, right? Except-”

“Our dear  _ princess  _ had the most ornery horse this side of the Hebra mountains,” griped Robbie, “and of course  _ Purah _ got the one that Link rode, so now I have bruises on my feet and bites on my arms-!”

“It’s not like I had time to pick!” said Purah through the last of her mirth. “They just came galloping in while Robbie and I were making a break for it and wouldn’t leave us alone until we climbed on and stayed there. I just happened to be closer to Link’s horse.”

“The horses rescued you… on their own?” said Impa slowly. 

Purah shrugged. “Link must have told them to. Or maybe it’s the spiritual proximity effect—you know, that theory about how spirit magic affects animals and monsters? It’s probably that, come to think of it. Link spoke to those horses. Er, in his own way.”

“I tend not to mess with spiritual affairs. Give me a blue flame and that’s the extent of how far I’ll go into their territory,” said Robbie. “Those horses just made me want to turn that tendency into a  _ blood oath.” _

“Stop being so dramatic, we got here in one piece  _ and  _ with plenty of weaponry,” said Purah with a snort. “Should be good enough for this coup—hey, wait, Impa, you said every Sheikah. Don’t tell me  _ she’s  _ here.”

Impa sighed and nodded, prompting Purah’s angry groan. 

“Yikes,” said Robbie eloquently. 

“I can deal with the end of the world,” said Purah through her teeth, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I do  _ not  _ feel like dealing with  _ dear old mom.  _ How many snide comments has she thrown at you for having to stay behind and let Zelda go? And yes, I was informed of that.”

“A few,” said Impa evenly. 

“Goddess! I’m going to dye my hair again,” grumped Purah.  _ “Neon,  _ this time—and my whole head!  _ That’ll _ make her mad. She can’t keep acting like you’re negligent, Impa! You’re more devoted than anyone to making sure Zelda is safe, and you’re damn good at it!”

Impa didn’t feel like harping about her mother. She never did—there was no point. Purah got angry enough for the both of them, really. 

It was a good thing the trip back to the planning room was long enough for Purah to cool down. 

“Urbosa, Mipha! Hello! Goddess, it’s been a while, how are things?”

Only Purah would greet the chief of the Gerudo with a delighted gasp and a near-tackle of a hug, then turn around to do the same to the crown princess of the Zora. Impa would have laughed if she weren’t so high-strung.

“Revali, Daruk, this is my sister, Purah,” she said, choosing to ignore Purah’s typical flashy behavior and pray that Robbie didn’t do anything like it. “And this is Robbie. They’re both top scientists and geniuses in their own right, and they’re both completely on board with the plan. The explosions were their fault.”

Revali said hello in his own gruff way—and it was, at least, somewhat polite—while Daruk laughed and gladly shook hands, dwarfing Purah and Robbie easily.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both!” he said genuinely. “We need as many people as we can get.”

“I got that impression,” said Purah, glancing at the spare population of their little team. “Say, where’s-”

A sudden knock on the door made everyone stiffen for a split-second, dismissing the tentatively-cheerful atmosphere like mist before the sun. Impa was the one to open the door after recognizing the pattern, schooling her face once she confirmed who it was. 

“I thought so,” said Nikala briskly, stepping inside with a nod to Impa. 

“So did I,” said Purah icily, a false smile gracing her lips. Robbie glanced at the smile and snickered, making a beeline for the door with a hurried excuse about finding something to eat. He was quickly followed by Mipha and Daruk, neither of whom seemed keen on facing the tension suddenly filling the room. Impa almost envied their willingness to just leave. 

“It’s good to see that you’re alive. You and… Robbie,” said Nikala, stepping forward to lay a hand on Purah’s shoulder. To Purah’s credit, she tolerated that for several seconds before stepping away. 

“Yeah, made it out  _ together,” _ said Purah, acid lacing her words. “Is there anything related to my research you think you’ll need,  _ mom?  _ I can think of a few things, but I wouldn’t want you to feel left out.”

“I believe I’m going to follow the others and get some lunch,” Urbosa murmured into Impa’s ear, watching Nikala slowly direct Purah to the maps and schematics of Hyrule Castle. “The kitchens are probably chaotic enough for you to come along.”

“I wasn’t dismissed, but thank you,” Impa murmured back. Urbosa glanced back at Nikala and nodded, leaving the room. Revali seemed absorbed in doing maintenance on his bow in the corner with a tiny lamp and didn’t respond when Urbosa left as well. 

_ At least he’s minding his own business.  _

“You know, Zelda’s got a powerful ally,” said Purah casually. Impa winced internally but said nothing, ready for the oncoming thinly-veiled (or not veiled at all) argument.

“They both escaped Kakariko largely thanks to him, yes,” said Nikala evenly.

“I’d say leaving her with a spirit was a pretty slick move.”

Nikala pursed her lips. “That  _ does _ seem like something you would say.”

“You know-” 

“Purah, you abandoned that path of life early on,” said Nikala sharply, cutting her daughter off. “You have no right to make decisions regarding the safety of the royal family.”

“Really? Because this coup is  _ quite _ the decision to be making, and it’s for Zelda, too,” said Purah, the smile never leaving her lips—and never reaching her eyes. “And I decided to join it less than ten minutes after being in the castle without you present. Hell, I thought you were still in Kakariko! I thought you laid off Impa for once, too, but I guess that was  _ also _ wishful thinking.”

“I’m just doing my job the best I can,” said Impa quietly, but her family ignored her. Revali glanced up from his work, pausing the rhythmic polishing for a moment to visibly eye the knives on Nikala’s belt and Impa’s sheathed kodachi. It was entirely possible that Nikala and Purah had forgotten he was there, so he didn’t have to worry about much. 

“Impa let her charge leave into unknown territory with an unfamiliar entity,” said Nikala, sparing a glance in Impa’s direction. The glance held no sympathy. “You met with Zelda. Was she alright?”

Purah winced. “Er—physically or emotionally? Actually, no, don’t ask for either-”

“And the spirit with her, hm? I saw him in the castle. He looked near  _ death.  _ Yes, a spirit bodyguard during a crisis that is actively weakening spirits. Excellent plan.”

“Extenuating circumstances,  _ mom.  _ He had to heal her, that’s why he looked sick,” said Purah hotly. “Plus Impa was already compromised! Link was the best option! And you’re leaving out how capable Zelda is-” 

_ Great. Once Purah loses her cool, it’s over.  _ Impa resigned herself to just praying that Revali wouldn’t ask any questions or spill anything to the others. Judging by how intently he stared at his bowstring without looking up or moving, he wouldn’t interject. 

_ “Princess  _ Zelda is our best hope, but it stands that she should not have been left without proper backup,” said Nikala, her voice a barely-contained hiss. “Impa clearly did not have her best interests at heart. She should have tried ha-”

“Would you SHUT UP?”

The room went still. It took Impa a moment to realize that  _ she  _ had been the one to shout. 

Nikala was the first to recover. “Did you just-”

“I did. Don’t you  _ dare,”  _ Impa hissed, “even  _ insinuate  _ that I’m not acting in Zelda’s best interest. You weren’t  _ there,  _ Mother!”

A rustle of feathers told her that Revali had finally decided to make a break for it, but Impa’s eyes didn’t leave her mother’s. 

“You didn’t see the look in her eye,” said Impa, remembering Zelda’s steel. “You didn’t see the way people are reacting to losing the spirits firsthand—badly! They’re reacting  _ badly!  _ They’re terrified and Zelda  _ hated  _ that. You didn’t see just how desperate she was to help. You didn’t see just how strong Link’s curses were—are you really calling  _ the spirit of wandering warriors  _ a bad bodyguard? You didn’t feel-”

Here, Impa choked, recalling the horrible sensation of her own stealth turning against her. Purah sidled up to her and took her hand, squeezing comfortingly. 

_ “You  _ didn’t feel the Yiga using their filthy magic to turn me into a time bomb against the girl I consider another sister,” said Impa, finishing with steel in her voice. “You. Weren’t. There. So don’t even  _ think  _ about telling me that I made the wrong decision.”

Nikala opened her mouth. Closed it. She seemed, for once, to be at a loss for words—Impa had  _ never  _ seen such an expression on her mother’s face. 

Her chest felt oddly cold. 

“You know what? What she said,” said Purah, a feral grin on her lips.  _ About time,  _ her expression seemed to say. “We’re both adults. Stop acting like you have a say in every decision we make anymore.”

A hand hooked itself around Impa’s waist and she let Purah steer her out of the room, numbly registering something about food. She cracked as soon as the door closed. 

_ “Oh sweet Hylia I yelled at her-” _

“Impa, hey! Don’t panic, that was  _ excellent,”  _ said Purah, still grinning maniacally. “She can’t do anything to you  _ or  _ me.”

“Right, yeah.” Impa shook her hands wildly, trying to get the energy out. 

“Look at it this way. You were defending Zelda, too,” said Purah kindly. “Come on. I’ll see if we can find those egg tarts you love.”

“I’m technically hiding from the castle,” reminded Impa.

“Okay, you might have to steal them, you’re better at stealth,” admitted Purah, dragging her down the corridor (the wrong way, but they could take the scenic route). “I think we all need a breather before things  _ really  _ get serious. Think of the egg tarts. C’mon, I know you want to.”

Impa hesitated, glancing back.

“Don’t worry about her. Just for a bit,” said Purah firmly. “Sometimes you gotta get adventurous! Live a little! After all…”

The castle trembled slightly around them.

“...it just might be the end of the world.”

— 

_ Though the winds bit with teeth like knives and the cold sheared under his feathers in icy tongues, Revali was undaunted. Tabantha Gorge yawned open far below him, its jagged edges looking like a monster’s maw in the twilight—but it couldn’t reach  _ him.  _ Revali was utterly untouchable so high in the sky. No monster or weapon could even  _ try  _ to clip his wings, and the sheer exhilaration of that knowledge propelled him forward with a whoop. _

_ Flying so high at night was dangerous, but what was danger to a young and headstrong Rito warrior? _

_ Revali tucked into a dive and relished the wind on his face as he arced straight down, letting the ground rush towards him before abruptly ending the dive and swooping back up again. He twisted straight into a powerful windstream and rode it as the Zora rode currents, working in tandem with the wind to skirt the edges of the gorge with ease.  _

_ Revali’s flight, though gleeful, was not without purpose—he was waiting for someone. He would know well enough when they arrived, too, so he could afford to swoop about aimlessly. _

_ The fires of Dinraal were unmistakable from any distance. _

_ “There you are,” murmured Revali, tensing momentarily. It was said that only the pure of heart could see dragons—naturally, it was a proving stage for Rito warriors to try and find Dinraal and gain a token from him.  _

_ (An archaic tradition from a long-gone and nearly-forgotten history, but important nonetheless).  _

_ Was it a case-by-case basis, judged by the spirit in question as curious mortals came looking, or was it just an intrinsic piece of magic? Revali wasn’t one for theory or conjecture, but he couldn’t help but wonder. Something about the sight of a brilliant, otherworldly creature leisurely twist through the air stirred his curiosity.  _

_ But there was no time for that. Revali beat his wings and flew higher, aware that Dinraal would not balk at throwing flames in every direction but could only reach so far. A single well-placed arrow from high above the dragon would serve Revali’s purposes.  _

_ But why do  _ that  _ when he could get adventurous? _

_ The line between foolishness and courage was a fine one, and Revali intended to just move the entire thing to suit his purposes.  _

_ Dinraal’s approach was heralded by a low groan that seemed to resonate through Revali’s very bones. The spirit flew on serenely, either not noticing or not caring that Revali was getting closer and closer to his back. Revali could have tucked his wings and landed on the great dragon’s spines in seconds if he chose to. Instead, he pulled forward farther than many would deem wise, slightly above and adjacent to Dinraal’s head and the cloud of lazy flames that bloomed there. One or two ruby-red tongues licked close enough to almost singe Revali’s talons and he reveled in the adrenaline rush instead of peeling away.  _

_ “Do you even know why I’m here?” he wondered aloud to the great dragon, though his words were swept away by the wind. Dinraal carried on flying, seemingly without a care in the world.  _

_ Then a massive eye, piercing blue in the middle of all the red and silver, snapped up to glare straight at Revali.  _

_ A shock of sudden, unnatural fear sent a tremor through Revali’s wings and he struggled mightily to avoid falling straight into Dinraal’s aura of flame. He was forced to make a sudden, clumsy landing on the edge of Tabantha Gorge, faceplanting unceremoniously onto the rocky ground like a hatchling just learning how to fly.  _

_ It took him a moment to realize that the heat of Dinraal’s presence hadn’t moved on—that Revali was far from alone on the desolate, icy ridge. Slowly, Revali let his gaze drift up, keeping the rest of his body still as stone as he did. He got the vague, persistent feeling that he should have been more careful from the get-go. _

_ Dinraal’s flames danced in circles around their maker’s head, but the glow of silver scales could have lit up the night just fine on its own. As if in slow motion, Dinraal reared until he could rest his foremost talons on the edge of the gorge, letting the rest of his body coil in midair below. He lowered his head once more to look at Revali, almost appearing to… wait for something.  _

_ Revali got to his feet, ready to summon his experimental flight technique and book it, token be damned. Dinraal didn’t move except to track his movements like a wolf watching prey hop around.  _

_ That… wasn’t a comforting comparison.  _

_ “Well?” said Revali eventually, impatient despite his fear. He met Dinraal’s unnerving gaze, figuring he might as well go out bravely. “Do you need something?” _

_ Dinraal blinked slowly, leaning forward until his head was level with Revali. A low rumble built in the back of the great dragon’s throat—displeasure? Anger? Indigestion? _

_ Of all the things to be wondering while at the mercy of an incredibly powerful dragon, whether or not dragons ate food that was bad for them was not what Revali would have guessed if asked.  _

_ Then Dinraal made a noise that could not be mistaken—he  _ chuckled,  _ of all things. The low, repetitive grumble could only have been a laugh.  _

_ “Am—am I  _ funny _ to you?”  _

_ Dinraal chuckled again, pushing off of the ledge with a mighty shove and soaring upwards. The resulting gales sent Revali tumbling over again and several bursts of white-hot flames spiraling in the pitch-black night, spinning around Revali in a blinding tornado that hid Dinraal from sight.  _

_ By the time Revali opened his eyes again, the dragon was a mere speck in the night sky above—and there was a scorched, smoldering circle in the ground, perfectly round and looking like it had been drawn with a quill and not burnt into the soil. Revali felt his beak fall open but didn’t care enough to close it, not when he was alone.  _

_ All of that fire—and the precision required to not burn Revali to a crisp—had it merely been for show? _

_ Revali decided to just fly back and say that he had decided not to shoot at Dinraal. Seeing the dragon and turning back of his own volition was more impressive than just getting a big head, surely.  _

—

Revali knew perfectly well what power looked like. He’d seen it in others and seen it in himself, enough to know that maybe—just maybe—the look in the princess’ eyes while she stood in front of all the evil goo without flinching meant  _ run.  _

He wasn’t  _ afraid.  _ Not of a princess who waffled for ages with the Elder without getting a single thing done. Not of a princess who could barely hold a regular conversation with someone outside of politics. Not of a princess who had to be ferried around by an entourage of guards.

But the princess who carried steel in her hand and in her eyes… well. Revali knew better than to waste time questioning her, that was all. 

Something about her companion, too—that uppity “Hylian” who had been quite annoying in the archery competition. Hylian eyes didn’t usually glow like that, did they?  _ He  _ radiated power not unlike the princess did, and Revali couldn’t help but wonder if the competition had been anything more than a game to him. 

_ “This is Link, the spirit of the wilds. We’ve been working together to solve this.” _

The princess had said it so nonchalantly, her voice and hands steady as if she weren’t dropping a bombshell on them all by introducing such a notoriously reclusive spirit. Revali had written off her sudden strength as a spirit’s blessing until she willingly stood where not even the spirit of the wilds could go. 

Revali wasn’t  _ scared  _ of the princess. 

He did, however, know when he shouldn’t try to cross any lines. There was a coup to finish up. 

He circled Hyrule Castle’s upper spires, relishing the breeze while he still had time. The choking clouds and unnatural light ruined the experience, unfortunately—the presence of the spirits did  _ so  _ much for Hyrule that it seemed like the very skies were protesting their peril. Revali rolled in midair to disperse the tension across his shoulders, setting his jaw. He  _ refused  _ to fail here. So what if his allies at the moment were all superpowered royals? Blood meant nothing to Rito warriors, and neither did gifted power. 

Hyrule Castle trembled visibly. Revali eyed it suspiciously, remembering the princess’ warning about the corpse of an old king now festering in evil below it. 

_ Hmph. I suppose the Rito might be cleverer than gods, who clearly put too much stock in bloodlines. Why was such a king allowed to gain this power? Why is it even so strong? _

The castle trembled once more and Revali, just briefly, trembled with it. 

He hated that flying couldn’t clear his head anymore. 

A sharp whistle reached Revali’s ears and he banked, searching for the source—there. The Zora princess (Mipha, wasn’t it?) stood beside one of the waterfalls leading down to the moat, waving him down. Had she no sense of stealth?

Not that Revali did, flying circles around the castle as he was, but that was beside the point.

“Have you seen anything unusual from the skies?” Mipha asked once Revali had come to a skidding stop beside her, unperturbed by nearly getting hit. If nothing else, Revali could respect how businesslike she was—no petty greetings, just intel. 

“I’ve seen nothing at all,” he said, shaking out smoky wings.  _ Ugh. This will take forever to preen.  _ “No Yiga, no civilians, no guards. I wish I could take that at face value.”

“I was dodging arrows one minute and completely alone the next,” said Mipha, gesturing behind her to the moat. The ashy water didn’t look very enjoyable to swim in, but despite that, she carried herself without an ounce of visible discomfort. “Is Zelda…?”

“Careful, you don’t know who’s listening,” Revali hissed, glancing at the smoky sky with distrust. “Yes, she’s off. We have to guard the exit if the Yiga try to spring something.”

Mipha’s face tightened as she nodded. “Understood. Accompany me back up? I don’t think traveling alone is wise.”

Revali sighed but acquiesced, resigning himself to flying in short bursts—or not at all—for however long it took to get back up to the castle proper. At least Mipha could do that waterfall-jumping thing, and he wouldn’t be a glorified bodyguard. 

The faint spots of cursed blood on Mipha’s otherwise-gleaming trident made that  _ quite  _ clear. 

Revali expected silence. The air itself seemed to be solidifying in his lungs, making hard to even  _ want  _ to speak, so he figured Mipha wouldn’t want to make the effort for a stranger. He figured wrong.

“It’s like a tidal wave,” she said midway up Hyrule Castle, stopping to glance out at the still land of Hyrule Field. 

“Pardon?” Revali didn’t see any similarities. 

“Sorry. I was voicing my train of thought,” said Mipha apologetically. “Have you ever been to the shore…?”

Revali silently shook his head.

“I suppose not. I’ve never been to Hebra,” said Mipha. “It’s just… the silence. I’ve seen something like this before.”

“I may have never seen the ocean, but I know what a tidal wave is. Aren’t they a good bit more loud and destructive than this?” said Revali, waving a wing at the oppressive, smoky air. He almost felt like shouting, just to spite the silence, but some piece of self-preservation deep down told him not to. 

“Once they arrive, they’re devastating,” said Mipha with a nod. “There’s a reason my people never settle directly on any seashores when we choose to live above the water. The thing about tidal waves—what made me think of them just now—is how silently they warn you of their presence.”

Revali raised an eyebrow, silently asking her to continue. 

“A quiet beach is a lethal one. Tidal waves steal all the water from the shore as far as the eye can see. It’s beautiful, in a way—the reef is exposed to the sun when it would never show with all the water in place. You can even walk around on the seafloor with impunity.”

Mipha gestured to the empty castle grounds. “But, if you stray too long… if you don’t take shelter… the wave will hit, and when it does, the results are disastrous.” 

Revali made a noncommittal humming noise. “Quite the analogy. Sounds a bit like an avalanche—but those are triggered by interference, not necessarily time. It’s best to just avoid the area entirely before a single sneeze puts a mountain’s worth of ice on your head.”

He was only being a  _ little  _ purposefully irritating. The part of Revali that never forgot his initial avalanche training (which had begun with “don’t go into the mountains on talon right after a blizzard, featherbrain”) was  _ screaming  _ at him to fly for it until Hyrule Castle was nothing but a speck on the horizon. 

“Either way, I feel like the Yiga are just waiting to strike,” said Mipha, running a clawed hand up and down the handle of her trident as if searching for comfort from the cold metal. “We’re going to have to be careful to give Zelda the time she needs.”

Revali held back an instinctive snort. “Right, yes, the princess.”

Mipha’s sudden sharp look actually startled him for a second. “Are you doubting her?”

_ Right, I almost forgot. Royals backup royals.  _ “You don’t? Not at all?”

“I  _ know  _ her. She’ll do fine-”

“-in a situation like this?”

Mipha huffed. “Goddess, just go wherever she went, then. I’m sure an unaugmented mortal without a holy sword will do  _ just _ fine.”

“You misunderstand,” said Revali, flashing back to the look in the princess’ eyes back at the pit and struggling to keep his feathers from sticking straight up. “I don’t meddle in spiritual affairs anymore. I might toe the line, but I don’t  _ cross  _ it. I recognize that anyone descended from Hylia has a better chance than you or I.”

“...But?”

“But you can’t look me in the eye and say that the throne handled this disaster well,” said Revali flatly. “You really can’t. Didn’t the princess have to go rogue to find a solution? The Rito heard about that little treason declaration and we all decided it was bull, but that doesn’t stop it from existing. The king had that power by proxy of his unearned station and nothing more. Forgive me for being a little doubtful that someone I don’t know plans to solve all of this via birthright, even if that birthright came from a spirit.”

Revali had been  _ supremely  _ unimpressed by every piece of news out of Hyrule Castle ever since the problems started. His venting—unappreciated back home, since few Rito disagreed and thus were tired of the argument—finally had a new outlet. So what if Mipha got a little insulted over a political ally?

“You’re  _ incredibly  _ rude, but you’re not wrong.”

Well.  _ That _ was a surprise. 

“Really, the king’s only got his power as long as Zelda is still underage in the eyes of the golden three. He’d have been out on her eighteenth anyway,” said Mipha. Her face twisted. “And I would have celebrated to see him go. This whole thing is almost wish-fulfillment.”

“Hm. Well, we agree on that,” said Revali.

Mipha glared at him. _ “Only _ that.  _ I _ trust Zelda.”

“I don’t have any reason to outside of…” Revali’s urge to get prickly faded in his throat. “Outside of how she looked back there. That… that was power.”

This time he lost the battle to keep his feathers unruffled, unfortunately. 

“Listen,” he said eventually. “It’s nothing against Zelda  _ personally.  _ She came across as unimpressive when we met originally, if curious, and I already had little faith in her father.”

“Understandable,” Mipha acquiesced. 

“I am not an optimistic person, either. I don’t know if the effort given today will be enough.”

Mipha ran her hand along the handle of her trident again thoughtfully. “I don’t either. If it helps… I have faith in Zelda because I  _ know  _ her. I know how determined she is to do what’s right. I saw the look in her eye same as you did, back when we were planning. 

“Zelda under normal circumstances is not to be trifled with. Zelda with a legendary sword and enough anger to not care about showing it? That’s someone to fear.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” said Revali slowly. He did mean that, but he wasn’t sure how to sound  _ sincere.  _ “It’s still on us to keep the Yiga busy.”

Mipha nodded, taking his acknowledgement without complaint. “I just hope the wave doesn’t come in too hard.”

She just  _ had  _ to jinx it. 

A massive explosion rocked the sky almost as soon as Mipha was done speaking, sending them both stumbling hard. Screams split the air, utterly shredding the horrible silence right after the explosion cracked it. 

_ I take it all back. The silence was better. _

“GO! Cover everyone and hold the Yiga back!” Mipha ordered, raising her trident with murderous intent. “See if-”

“Handle  _ yourself! _ Don’t give me orders!”

Revali took off in a huff, taking to the smoky skies with practiced ease. To his shock, it seemed the Yiga hadn’t simply caused  _ one  _ explosion—most of Hyrule Castle was either on fire or crawling with warped bodies. A war cry from below was Revali’s only warning before arrows wreathed in hissing Malice arced through the skies toward him. 

_ Child’s play.  _

His shots cut down archer after archer from ramparts, grounds, and rooftops; the Yiga couldn’t hope to match Revali’s marksmanship. They had him beat in numbers and that was all—and what were numbers to someone who could simply fly out of reach? What were numbers to someone desperate to save his home?

Nothing at all. Hardly a barrier. 

But they just  _ kept coming.  _

Lightning crashed from the skies and Urbosa’s blade far below, which gave Revali an excellent section of the castle to avoid like the plague. Daruk could be heard laughing and causing chaos every time Revali swooped low over his location. Mipha fought like a bear for someone her size, defending fleeing residents of the castle with trident and tooth alike. Revali backed her up when he got the chance, mildly surprised that she took the time to support a retreat when there was glory to be found elsewhere. Impa and Nikala each tore through the Yiga ranks like well-armed shadows, blades flashing like stars against the backdrop of blood and smoke. Robbie seemed to have joined Purah as a defendant of the throne room, wielding odd-looking armor and a glowing blue sword with reckless abandon while his partner laid explosive traps. 

And then there was  _ Link.  _

The spirit of the wilds was well-known for unconventional battle tactics, but using enemies and terrain alike as springboards for gravity-defying attacks was news to Revali—who found that even he wasn’t immune to being used as a tool in one of Link’s attempts to carve straight through every Yiga in sight when Link deflected one of his bomb arrows into a cluster of footsoldiers with a  _ pot lid  _ picked up from somewhere. 

Revali would have laughed or gotten irritated if it weren’t for the  _ look  _ in the spirit’s eyes. That look meant trouble, clear as a Hebra morning, and Revali was not the type to cross spirit magic. 

“They won’t stop coming!” he said instead, landing to give his wings a quick break and firing from the ground next to Link. 

Link snapped his fingers at the squad of warped bodies and they all screeched as one, dropping broken weapons and scattering before Revali could shoot. Revali caught the way Link violently flinched after that, but chose not to question it. 

_ “So we can’t stop either,”  _ said Link in hurried sign, keeping a wary eye on their surroundings. The light from his eyes was… faded. Revali had no idea what that meant, but he figured it couldn’t be good, not when Link’s skin was paper-white underneath the mud and blood accumulated from battle. 

“You look terrible.”

_ “Do I? Almost like I’m suffering from a curse, or something.” _

Sarcasm could be hard to convey through sign, but Revali caught  _ that  _ loud and clear. 

“If you’re going to be incapacitated soon, get off the battlefield,” he snapped. “Go to Mipha. Go guard Zelda’s exit.  _ Anything  _ that doesn’t put one of Hyrule’s last hopes in the middle of a giant bloody battle for no reason-!”

_ “I will not stop.”  _ Link’s signs almost looked like attacks in and of themselves, rapid and rough. Revali closed his beak with a  _ clack,  _ suddenly hyper-aware of the way the glow in Link’s eyes looked ready to bore straight through him. 

_ Revali, you fool, this is one of Hyrule’s strongest spirits! _

_ “I can’t stop,”  _ continued Link, his eyes still hard. _ “Never get between a spirit and their domain, Rito. I will stop when it’s over, or when I fall, whichever comes first. You call me our last hope? I am not. That’s Zelda. I’m holding a lot of them back on my own and you know it.” _

Revali hesitated before snapping back—a rare occasion. “That doesn’t mean you should dive in recklessly. Er… with respect, you need to be careful. Every time a spirit falls,  _ they _ get stronger.”

_ “And I’m only getting weaker, Yiga or no,”  _ Link admitted.  _ “You are a capable mortal warrior, for all you don’t carry a blessing. Defend your home and I’ll do the same.” _

An ever-present part of Revali’s mind couldn’t help but swell with pride at the phrase. The spirit of wandering warriors considered  _ him  _ worthy, without a single enhancement that didn’t come from blood, sweat, and tears. No magic that wasn’t Revali’s own. No achievements that weren’t  _ Revali.  _

If only it didn’t feel like overhearing a deathbed confession. 

“Fine. I have to go see how the others are faring,” said Revali, readying his wings to once more catch his Gale. Link stood back, the sword in hand looking almost like a comfort object and not a weapon, as Revali summoned the winds and rose like a fleeing ember. 

_ Robbie first. I haven’t heard any of his mad cackling in a hot second.  _

But before Revali got too high up for his words to carry, he caught Link’s eye once again. 

“Thank you. And good luck.”

The sign for  _ you’re welcome  _ was almost hidden by drifting smoke, but it could be seen regardless. 

Unfortunately, the rush of his little conversation didn’t last long—not when Revali was quickly forced back into the role of aerial support, intercepting arrows and dodging enterprising Yiga midair without a second to breathe. Rescues weren’t Revali’s strong suit, and he wasn’t a  _ ferry  _ for flightless warriors, and yet there he was. 

Robbie had to be snatched off the ground and dumped on the other end of a chasm formed by magic, which Revali made sure to gripe about before having to fly away. Purah’s explosive booby traps jammed and she needed Revali to trigger them by  _ shooting  _ them—he was running low on arrows, too, forced to steal the Yiga’s fallen projectiles or make lightning-fast trips in and out of guard towers. Hylian arrows were  _ hopeless  _ compared to Rito craftsmanship. He could hardly afford to waste his supply on Sheikah bombs that packed very little punch, but he did. 

Urbosa almost  _ fried  _ him, nearly clipping Revali’s wings with an errant lightning bolt when he swooped in to help. He shot the blademaster attempting to sneak closer and zipped away without a word—the chief of lightning could handle herself. Daruk threw a chunk of molten rock that nearly went straight through Revali’s chest in an attempt to slow the too-fast Yiga footsoldiers. Revali dealt with the footsoldiers attempting to flank him regardless. 

Impa and Nikala disappeared and reappeared all over the battlefield so randomly that Revali couldn’t track them, so he just fired off shots wherever he deemed them useful and figured two Sheikah could handle themselves. Mipha had retreated fully to serve as medical support for the refugees who were injured and any Hylian soldiers who foolishly joined the fight—Revali used his last few bomb arrows to collapse the most open approaches to her position and drew the Yiga elsewhere to kill them. Simultaneously stretched too thin and feeling too useless, Revali knew his wings wouldn’t last much longer. 

But a spirit had recognized his ability, so obviously he could keep going. 

Link himself zipped around the battlefield wreathed in green lightning and took Revali’s help without complaint or flinching. The untrained eye would assume he never faltered—but the sharp eyes of a bird of prey caught the tremble, the fading glow, and the sluggishness of failing magic. 

_ He better last.  _ Revali couldn’t even find it in himself to hope he outlasted Link. There would be no glory in that. 

“DIE!” screeched yet another Yiga, teleporting above Revali and attempting to skewer him. Revali twisted in midair and dodged-

_ Not fast enough-! _

The blade caught on some of his secondaries and sliced them to shreds, sending Revali into a spiral as the footsoldier plummeted to earth.

By sheer skill and some miracle, Revali angled himself straight for a shattered window and somersaulted inside Hyrule Castle, barely managing to save his ribs and skull from the landing. He staggered upright, dully aware of the spreading stain on his injured wing. 

_ Blood feather.  _

The world seemed to slow down opposite to the rapid spread of crimson blood. Revali forced his breathing down—if he panicked, hyperventilated,  _ anything  _ to raise his heart rate, he’d only bleed out faster-

_ Think! You can handle worse than this! _

Mipha was nearby, but not  _ nearly  _ close enough, not when the bloodstain was already soaking a massive patch of feathers and dripping to the floor. Revali was no fool. A broken blood feather was a death sentence without proper care. The blood kept spreading, flowing freely and making Revali light-headed with no sign of stopping—and it wouldn’t stop, not while the broken feather’s shaft was acting like a faucet. 

He had to pull it out on his own. 

_ What are you flinching for? You’ve seen blood before! _

He had to pull it out on his own  _ quickly  _ or he was dead and his allies had no aerial backup and the chances of Hyrule falling got that much larger-

_ Just pull it out! _

Revali found the base of the offending feather with his beak and  _ yanked,  _ grateful for the adrenaline that made the agonizing tear more bearable. 

_ And now that I’m not dying I need to find Mipha. Get off your talons, Revali! Before it’s too late! _

His body started moving before his mind fully caught up, awkwardly half-sprinting half-gliding down the smoke-stained corridor to where he knew Mipha was—he couldn’t afford to lose the advantage of flight.  _ Not here. Not now. At least I didn’t pass out, but it won’t matter if we lose too many fighters! _

“Stay ca—Revali, by Nayru, your wing!”

“Can you force feather regrowth with that ability of yours?” Revali growled, unable to regulate his responses even slightly despite the shivering Hylians who gasped at his bedraggled appearance and the shock on Mipha’s face. “I need to get back in the air  _ five minutes ago.” _

“If it were functioning fully, I could! But—just—over here.” Mipha unceremoniously shoved Revali out of the ballroom now serving as a sick bay, her face stony. “You’re out, I’m sorry. I can’t heal this.”

“We’re  _ losing,” _ Revali hissed. 

“We just have to  _ survive,” _ said Mipha, holding up her hands. They flickered with blue light for a moment, then sputtered and stopped glowing. “Look at this! Have you seen Link? He—his blessing is the reason I’m as powerful as I am. Long story. Something must be going  _ horribly  _ wrong with him, so I can’t heal you!”

“He’s fading,” said Revali instantly. “I tried to get him to retreat, trust me, but he won’t. Something is draining him faster than he can fight. Are you  _ sure-” _

“I know my limits. Learn yours!” said Mipha roughly. “You’re out of the battle, Revali. The best the two of us can do right now is protect the people who can’t fight and leave the rest to-”

Suddenly, her face went completely slack, like she was a puppet with the strings cut. Revali thought for a moment he’d have to catch her, that she would pass out, but Mipha only swayed in place for a moment before holding up her shaky hands again. She flexed them once experimentally. 

Twice. 

Three times. 

Nothing happened. 

“It just…” Mipha sounded  _ hollow.  _ “It feels like… I’ve been cut off…”

A beat of silence. Even the roar of battle and whatever was stirring beneath the castle seemed to fade for a split second, leaving Revali dizzy from the sudden lack of input. 

Then a wordless scream rent the very sky in two and sent him collapsing to his knees.

It was no normal scream—no cry of pain or grief or terror could  _ ever  _ measure up to the horribly high-pitched screech tearing at his ears. It shook the stones and the air and Revali himself, clawing at his heart like ice and threatening to make him black out. Pain etched itself into every echo of the  _ unnatural  _ sound in a voice that matched nothing he had ever heard before. 

“-vali? Revali! Wake up!”

Revali’s eyes snapped open. Mipha’s voice sounded like it came through several layers of glass, tinny and dull, but it was enough to get him to peel himself off of the floor and stagger upwards. A drop of blood rolled off his beak and struck the floor—excellent, a nosebleed,  _ exactly  _ what he needed. 

“-completely gone.” Mipha was speaking despite her shaking frame. “I used to be able to feel the blessing, but now—it’s just-”

_ The scream.  _

The spirit of the wilds  _ notoriously  _ never spoke. Never so much as hummed. 

_ Does dying hurt that much? _

Revali shook himself and made to speak only for a sudden realization to strike him dumb. “Oh,  _ no.  _ If Link fell and they’ve absorbed his power too, did his mind—his memories-?”

Mipha gasped when the realization hit her too. “Get to the exit! Now! You’re faster than me, just  _ go,  _ we  _ have _ to stop them! I’m right behind you!”

Revali ignored the drag on his wing and the ringing in his ears to half-sprint half-fly through the ruined structure of Hyrule Castle, desperately hoping he could move faster to-

_ To what? To do WHAT? In the face of a threat like this, arrows will do little. You can’t fly properly. Will you put yourself between the blades and the exit? That’s a fool’s errand. What can you POSSIBLY do? _

Revali got to the ledge first, running on sheer adrenaline as he crashed straight to the ground and nearly winded himself. The Malice that had formerly stayed away from open air now oozed outwards from the hole Daruk made, hissing and spitting and giving off the  _ stay away  _ aura that had been giving Revali nausea since he ran into the stuff. What did that mean for Zelda? How close was she to her goal?

_ Crack.  _

Revali whipped around just in time to see a dark shape vault off the castle wall towards him—but he didn’t see more than that before the sense of Malice spiked and he nearly crumpled, clutching his head and barely avoiding the shape’s attack. 

It came at him again and Revali lashed out without thinking, ducking under a swiping blade covered in Malice—it seemed familiar,  _ too  _ familiar—and puncturing his attacker’s torso with his talons the way he might catch a fish. Whatever-it-was hissed violently and leaped straight up and out of Revali’s sight.

He had no way of knowing where it landed, since he blacked out seconds later. 

— 

_ Satori waited for Zelda to leave before speaking, either gathering himself or simply ensuring she was out of hearing range. Link swayed slightly—unwilling to face the reality before him.  _

Oh, Young One… I wish our reunion was not this.

_ Link didn’t know what to say to that.  _

Do you recall the Hero before Zelda?

_ Forget the reunion thing. Link had no idea what to say to THAT. _

“I… do now,”  _ he said eventually. Shame and something else, something painful, dripped onto his words.  _ “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Because by the time I realized what really happened, he was long dead,  _ said Satori with a heavy sigh.  _ Do you fear history repeating itself?

“I…”

_ There was no need to elaborate. They both knew that was the case.  _

“Why do I feel like this?”  _ whispered Link instead, reaching for the dark pain that he couldn’t explain.  _

That-

_ Satori stiffened, looking out towards the Lost Woods briefly. The wilds faintly hissed about evil approaching.  _

That is a bridge we will have to cross later. Hold yourself together as best you can, Young One, because I have to go—now. 

“Stay.”

You know I cannot.

_ Link swallowed as Satori took a step closer and leaned down, letting Link lean into his starry mane and cling to him like a mortal child.  _

I told Zelda that we would have to keep an eye on you… protect you… while you recover, but we can no longer afford to let you do so normally.

_ Link found that he couldn’t let go of Satori and stiffened, but he was too late to stop what was already in motion. A hum of magic built in Satori’s chest, reaching out to the weakened embers that Link barely clung to with soothing arms. The feeling of a blessing was as familiar to Link as the wilds themselves—the only reason he didn’t recognize it right away was because he was usually on the  _ giving  _ end.  _

“You-!”

_ Link jerked away on instinct, overwhelmed by the rush of pure power surging through him where only faint sparks had been moments ago. The wilds whispered to him—faint, in pain, but loud enough to be heard and oh, Link had  _ missed  _ their presence in a way he never wanted to feel again.  _

Keep moving,  _ whispered the wilds.  _ Stay… safe… 

_ But their comfort was short-lived in the face of what had caused it. Link stared at Satori in horror, watching as the brilliant spirals faded from his mentor’s formerly-brilliant body. With the power already expended to escape the Lost Woods… and what Satori would need to fight…  _

“You gave up too much-!”

I did not. I gave up precisely what I meant to,  _ said Satori evenly, though he swayed slightly where he stood.  _ You have your full range of abilities with this energy. Do not waste it, and be aware of the time limit once… I have fallen. 

“Satori…” 

_ Satori nudged Link’s chest soothingly.  _ You have never known what it is to be born into a family the way mortals are, and I have long since left any blood of mine behind. I still count you as my own—remember that. I am proud of the spirit you have become. 

_ Slowly, Satori took a step backwards. Then another. Link stood stock-still with one hand slightly outstretched, unwilling to let him go completely.  _

“Good… good luck.”

You will need it more than I. 

_ And with that, he was gone, leaving Link with a mission and with looming pain ready to suck him under.  _

—

Link didn’t particularly care what his mortal allies did, so long as it worked and wasn’t in his way. Satori’s last gift hummed in his veins with a fading buzz, threatening to give out on him with too much use, and his limbs shook whenever he let power flow through them. 

But Zelda—the world—needed his help. There would be no stopping until he fell. 

_ Just like Satori.  _

Link wasn’t stupid enough to think he would pull through the entire battle unharmed. That wasn’t the plan for him. Instead, he gave the Yiga every ounce of blood and teeth and steel and ignored the drag on his magic—in a way, it was freeing to stop holding back for that reason. Freeing, to fight like he had nothing to lose when  _ everything  _ was on the line.

None of the mortals could keep up when Link got started in earnest. Urbosa turned to get him to go somewhere and had to shout at his back—”Be careful! Keep them away!” They couldn’t follow his path of vaulting off of walls and flagpoles and even enemies, catapulting through the air like a vengeful arrow. They couldn’t throw curses or magically tug on the few living plants around to slow the Yiga. 

(Each curse—of bad weapons or poor luck or a combination of the two—sent electric shocks through Link’s very soul as his magic protested all the continuous hatred. He didn’t care.)

“You look terrible.”

Link wasn’t particularly surprised that it was  _ Revali _ of all his allies to mention it—but he was surprised that the grouchiest mortal present was the one to immediately try and get him to fall back. Revali had seemed so detached. 

A small part of Link that sounded suspiciously like the near-silent wilds told him to stop. He couldn’t fight like this forever, and wouldn’t hiding prolong the time he had?

No, it wouldn’t. Not when that meant Link’s fighting power completely gone from the front lines before it had to be. So he was honest with Revali and left alone on the battlefield once more, ready to fall back into the mindless dance of blood and bone and blade. Link covered every inch of the castle’s border for as long as he could, losing sight of his allies, of the tallest spires, of the sky, blindly leaping through the smoke-

He should have known that would bite him sooner or later. 

He would have preferred later. 

Shock really  _ was  _ an impressive drug. Link had never understood why mortals just stopped functioning after certain events, but now—looking down at the Malice-coated arrow in his chest that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere—he had an inkling. 

His sword clattered to the bloody, ash-streaked ground and Link fell with it, landing on his hands and knees numbly. His chest just felt  _ cold,  _ not an ounce of the usual sense of Malice. Sounds faded away. 

_ Move. Move, please, MOVE- _

Twisted cackling erupted all around him as the Yiga realized that they’d hit their target. Link sluggishly tried to stand and ended up slumped onto his side, belatedly feeling the intense burn from the cursed metal and wood sticking through his chest. The Malice hissed in what Link could  _ swear  _ was smug victory, dripping alongside his blood and spreading up his neck like choking vines. What was left of Satori’s blessing and Link’s magic fought weakly, keeping it back, but it would give out soon-

Was this dying? Would he  _ die? _

_ Please, no…  _ whispered the wilds, weak and frail, but Link couldn’t say anything back. 

“What say-”

“-we finish-”

“-the job?”

_ I don’t envy Zelda… hearing those voices… in her head…  _

The Malice hissed, spreading further down Link’s chest and through his veins. Satori’s blessing buckled—leaving only the last shreds of Link’s magic as a towering blademaster stepped up to him and Link  _ still couldn’t move- _

His magic gave out just as the Malice-coated blade came down. 

And it  _ hurt. _

The world disappeared into shades of black and red as Link was yanked out of the mortal body that had carried him for so long and forcibly shoved back in, trapped inside what was once his key to freedom. Giving him functional vocal cords was a mistake. 

Link had never screamed before. It made sense that his very first one would shake the sky and signal doom, scattering Yiga and mortal alike in pain and grief and terror—but even though the Yiga lay stunned when it was over, Link stood. 

Or rather, whatever was now running his body stood. 

**_Ah, my latest pawn. I’ve waited a long time to get my hands on you._ **

He saw rather than felt his body get up and snatch the fallen sword with a warped and corrupted hand. 

**_Where…_ **

The memory sprang unbidden to Link’s mind.  _ Zelda standing before darkness with a determined expression. From… under the throne room.  _

**_Go there. Kill her. Shatter the sword. You wanted to incapacitate my soldiers? Good for you—the job is yours._ **

Link howled with the force of every wolf in his domain, clawing and fighting within his own mind to no avail. He watched himself traverse the castle in less than a minute, watched himself bat aside mortal soldiers that happened to get in the way, watched himself knock Revali out—if only the wound to his side had actually slowed the Malice- 

His body made a running leap into darkness, whatever-was-running-it fully intent on its longtime target. 

_ Zelda, I’m so sorry.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go ahead, steal my kneecaps, I’ve accepted my fate

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Life, In Its Time.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27402691) by [a_good_kind_robot_of_science](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_good_kind_robot_of_science/pseuds/a_good_kind_robot_of_science)




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